Program Q
by TFALokiwriter
Summary: What if everything was a computer program? Well, what if everyone except for Q were fictionally generated characters? What if Q was a computer programmer of some kind? Perhaps many things may be different then how they were seen to be. Q quite possibly might not be immortal. Told in Q's perspective.


Divorced and quite alone, solitude can do a number on a man. In my solitude alone I have come to many accomplishments. A majority of these have driven those who were once close to me be torn away. Now, here I work in a cubicle along with several other people in my field. The 'alone' impression is made by a pair of earphones that does not allow sound to come through. I work nine hours a day working on programs for various computers from here. I even work on programs from home.

There is a pair of ringing in my ears.

The end of work.

I take off the ear phones into the world of noise.

One of these days I am going to get a lab of my own . . . Not that I have one . . . Where I pay myself and I don't need these head phones for work. The noise comes from everyone else typing up coding, muttering some of the text, and their fingers bouncing off the keyboard. Some people in here are mad typists. I slide the chair back,save what progress I had, and then log off the computer. I take my dark jacket off the back seat part of the chair then put the jacket on.

Life is a drag.

Boring.

Dull.

And so . . . dry . . . empty . . . boring.

As I walked toward the elevator I thought about how everything was _so_ bland and there needed to be something to spice it up.

* * *

 **. . . 2063. . .**

 **. . . January 1st. . .2:48 PM . . .**

 _A-B-C-D-E-F-G-H-I-J-K-L-M-N-O-P-_

"Q." I awoke from my power nap on the desk.

There was the faintest of ideas in my head.

Then the idea went away quickly as it had come then I lowered my head down and resumed napping.

 _"Who are you?"_

 _"Q."_

 _"Q who?_

 _"Q-R-S-T-U-V-W-X-"_

 _"I get the point,Q!"_

 _I felt very light._

 _Easily felt I could float out of the room._

 _"Why don't I show you what I can do!" I grinned walking back and forth. "I am Q, the programmer," I threw my arms up in the air. "The one entirely responsible for this!"_

 _I snapped my fingers._

 _In a white flash the man is bald and his mustache remained._

 _"Nice mustache." I said._

 _I lowered my arms down to my side._

 _"Q, GIVE BACK MY HAIR!"_

 _"I like how it looks on you, Pikachu."_

 _"Q, enough of the name calling."_

 _"Okay, Pikachu."_

 _"Q, I will ask you again: GIVE. ME. MY. HAIR. BACK."_

 _I snapped my fingers getting rid of his mustache._

 _"You look better already,Pikachu."_

 _"Q, GET OFF MY SHIP!"_

I bolted awake recalling there being other people in the scenery behind the bald man. I looked around finding it off. Why was I calling the man by a different name? I know what nicknames are,even puns, and metaphorical comments. It then occurred to me that the name 'Picard' would be more convenient. I thought: _why not_? I recalled more vivid details from the dream including the inside of the ship by the looks of it. I pulled up a different type of computer that had enough room to run a entire reality through infinity and beyond!

I am a workaholic.

There is nothing that pleases me other than working.

It took me a couple days to set up my basement for this little project, working, programming, working, programming, and working. I bought a stasis pod from the black market for one dollar. Yes, one dollar. That was very cheap. I slept for four hours per day. Enough to replentish my energy. I had took a shower, had breakfast as usual, thoroughly cleaned the kitchen for the first time since my ex-wife left me along with my little boy in seven years(While I was cleaning I was really doing programming in general), and returned to building my very own world that was original. More original than the crap I have to patch up every day,renew, and recreate.

It took me months at a time.

Then it became a year.

One year of hard work.

I completed the Q program.

A program that makes the user incredibly god like to everyone encountering it.

I knew Shakespeare.

So why not introduce myself to these newly activated people in the words of Shakespeare?

"Year," I said. "2364. . . Three hundred years from now."

It is 2064.

I put on a headset, a pair of electronically advanced gloves, and connected some of the wires onto my skin. I was in my boxers. Almost naked. Why not get comfortable in the first brain wave experience into the world of artificially programmed world that wasn't made to be played in the format of a online computer game. Nothing like a computer game that had incredible graphics. I was in the pod by this time. I closed the pod then heaved a sigh. I honestly had been anticipating this day for a long time to venture into my dreams. My _dream_. The head set connects to my brain through a series of brain waves communicating to the program.

"Activate program . . ." I said.

"Program activating . . . rest and enjoy." The program said.

I smiled closing my eyes.

"Hello, Picard." I said.

By the time the machine was done I felt ecstatic and blown away. Well, that went away better than I had thought it would. Picard had . . . I can't touch it . . . changed? His characterism was much different than the one I had programmed to be bold, defiant, wordsmith, and a Frenchmen. He was bald, too, lacking a mustache just like young impressionable William T Riker. He wasn't a word smith when I came face to face with him. There was a couple other people I hadn't programmed such as Data, Yar,Worf, and Deanna Troi. The pod door opened automatically. I got out rubbing the side of my head.

"Continue making program run?" The computer asked.

"Run in real time." I said.

"Command accepted." The computer said.

The only thing that wasn't different was the demand of getting off his ship and a request to know who I was.

* * *

 **. . . May 1st. .4:58 AM. . .**

 **. 2064. . .**

I sat on Picard's couch.

Well, I was really laid on the couch.

"Why hello there." I said,in the couch in my most comfortable position yet.

Picard's face grew a steaming red.

"Q, get out of my quarters!" Picard demanded.

"I am bored." I said, flatly.

"Making Riker part Q is not enough of your games?" Picard asked. "Then I demand you end this exercise NOW!"

I rolled an eye, getting halfway up.

"I just wanted to pop right in," I said. "And see how things were going for Team Riker. Instead I get shoved off a cliff by Worf in the holodeck, slapped at the face by Deanna, and beaten at Chess by Data!" I waved my fist in the air. "This is a horrible day. I might just delete this timeline."

"Then why don't you make it so?" Picard asked.

I sighed.

"I want to keep it real, Picard," I said. "The experience itself is. . ." I stopped mid sentence. "Program halt."

I stepped out of the room wearing the head set.

"Delete experience, run as though I never entered." I said.

I sat down into the chair taking the headset off.

I had moved on from a stasis pod to a entire room during the progress with this Q program. I was building a entire civilization similar to the one I had created. The whole omnipotent my ass part. I am a atheist. The one thing about Picard is that his favorite catchphrases are fairly simple. They are: "Engage","Make it so", and "Earl gray tea. Hot." to name a few. I mildly caught him saying 'Merde' which meant shit in french. I was delighted that Picard had become a person in the process of making the reality real.

It delighted me that Picard actually used a french word.

* * *

 **. . . October 1st. . .10:48 AM. . .**

 **. . . 2064. . .**

Eventually I talked about my achievement.

I was at the water cooler.

"And I made this whole new program that creates any realities with a given command and hours of hard work." I said.

Philip Stake, my cubicle partner, just nodded.

"Uh huh." Philip said.

"And I LOVE IT!" I said.

"Did you do this at work?" Philip said.

"Most of the time I did it at home . . . I began most of it here in this building." I said.

"What's it called?" Philip asked.

"Q." I said.

"Program Q?" Philip repeated.

I lit up like a light bulb.

"Q!" I sang. "The mighty and the best! The most powerful entity (or entities) known in the universe!" I held my arms out with a grin holding a cup of water in one hand. "It is soo graaaaaaand to be Q! It is awesome, everybody hates him and likes him at the same time!" I lowered my arms. "It is swell to be a Q."

Philip just blinked, unfazed.

"You act the part." Philip said.

"Don't flatter yourself. I just love the program like it is one of my own." I said.

"Really?" Philip asked.

"Uh huh." I said.

I take a sip from my cup.

"And where is it?" Philip asked.

"In my basement." I said,lowering the cup.

Philip took a sip of his drink then lowered the cup down.

"You should tell the boss about it." Philip said.

I stared at Phillip for a whole while.

I raised a eyebrow.

"That I created a freely living component computer generated reality on the job on my free time?" I asked. I lowered my eyebrow. "No way!" I shook my free hand. "If I did he would report me for illegally creating a new device without a patent!"

It then occurred to me that I had broken the law.

As Picard would say: _merde_.

Philip went silent.

"You know I have to tell," Philip said. "I can't hold that kind of information back . . ."

"I know." I said.

"Maybe I can give you a head start." Philip said.

"You know I can't leave until work is over." I said.

Philip raised his eyebrows with a smile.

"Oh really?" Philip said.

I suddenly went pale and a sickening feeling was in my stomach.

"I put a certain drug in your drink to get back at you for taking MY program," Philip said. "You'll be sick as a dog."

I looked down toward the cup to see I had drank it all.

Every. Ounce.

"Get going." Philip said, patting my back.

I started to go forward feeling unwell but then my breakfast landing on the floor. I had a headache making itself known in the back of my head. I was trembling like a leaf. Philip shouted for some help, ever so casually like he hadn't been part of the entire event that transpired. Eventually that lead to me going home sick. I took the ride home in the smart car that had preprogrammed my home coordinates prior in case of anything like this. I go to work in this rounded bubble like machine similar to the one from _The Minority Report_.

The smart car came to a stop.

"Destination has been reached." Came Siri's robotic voice.

The door flipped open.

I had to get out.

The Program Q was mostly everywhere in the house but mostly in my man cave, my closet, and the basement. I got out of the vehicle that was at rest then used a part of the rail coming from the ground to help myself forward. My legs felt like jelly. My head ached like rotten sausage. My eyes were getting dark. The sickening feeling swayed back and forth in my stomach. I needed to have some soup. I needed to sleep, a lot. I forced myself to the door using all my inner strength. I had to delete the program. I had to delete the program before the authorities came in and got their dirty hands on it. I didn't want it to be taken by the government then be claimed one of its own and my house ransacked. They wouldn't know how to operate the machine. I puked once again into the nearby trash can. I collapsed into a chair.

 _Must. . . delete. . . the. . . program._

And my world entered into darkness.

* * *

 _"Q, get out of my chair!" Picard demanded._

 _I looked up._

 _Was I dreaming again?_

 _"I am not in your chair." I said, flatly._

 _"Yes, you are." Picard said._

 _I frowned._

 _"Oh come on, if I were in your chair,I would know!" I said._

 _"You don't even know where you are at?" Picard asked, confused._

 _"Enlighten me." I said, my hands together._

 _Picard had a sigh._

 _"You are on my ship, aboard the bridge, in my chair." Picard stated._

 _I stared at him for a long while._

 _"No, that is impossible, I am not in the machine," I said then realizing where I was. "'I am dreaming. I am dreaming. I am dreaming!" I looked around frightened at the surrealistic scenery. "Program halt!"_

 _Then I heard banging from the doors._

I bolted awake feeling ill in my stomach.

It was only just a dream.

But the banging was very real.

The doors to my house were busted open by what seemed to be a large wooden object. The patent claim police came in holding grim expressions on their faces. My neck felt absolutely stiff. You see, in my workaholic society there is a single but most followed rule in the world. You must get a patent before inventing anything. ANYTHING. A child can do anything as they are not part of the work force, their inventions are childs play and they are treated as such, child prodigys are taken somewhere that not even law enforcement bother to search as they will enrich our future illegally. I like to believe why not? Why not let our society have inventors.

"Please," I begged, getting up. "Don't!"

"Search the house for the program!" Came the head police man.

They had cameras, baggys,boxes, and other assortments. I tried to stop them, I did, but I was held back by two police officers as they ransacked my place. I watched machine after machine be towed out of the basement. They went to my den. Messed it all up. My closet was next. I couldn't bare to watch them mess up my creation. I was a programmer not someone who could be a threat! I did nothing but create a entirely new independent universe that was fictionalized. I don't remember the rest after seeing the horror but what I did remember is waking up on a boat.

I felt sorrow.

I was in the middle of the ocean, alone, very alone.

Soon afterwards I realized I was in the boat I inheritated from my late good willed father.

"What the hell?" I said.

I felt remarkably healthy.

Then the pieces came together how I got here: one by one.

"Ooh merde." I said, going through my hair.

I had left the house during the ransack, visited my mother, and cried in my old room. It hurt seeing my creations being destroyed by the very one I respected. My mother had stirred me from my weeping then told me they were searching for me. I was being treated as a fugitive. She recommended I go out on my father's boat. That was five hours after coming home. I felt a need to do something. Anything! I felt ancy in the period that transpired. I had enough food to last me for three years. My mother and some of her friends helped me to the boat, untie it, and set course. She told me everything would be fine that I just need to wait for everything to cool down on this end of the world.

I had fishing rods.

There was a manual on how to cook on the table.

There were fishing nets.

A bunch of fishing supplies.

I even had a radio.

Old styled but still worked.

I was at the table poking at the fish I had caught and cooked.

"I hate this." I said, with a great sigh.

True I did miss my society.

For so long I knew what exactly to do.

Now I do not.

I had a paper calendar on the wall across from me in the kitchen.

Hours trickled by.

I had this sudden temptation to write. Just about anything. Eventually I found myself writing a novel on paper regarding my dearest and most prized creation. The universe that unveiled the great Enterprise D. I jotted down the descriptions. I jotted down the dialogue exchanges between these fascinating characters. The characters sprung to life interacting with me as the story went. I cataloged every interaction even the ones I had in my dreams. In the time that passed I did some shaving, showering, and did laundry on the house-fit boat. I folded my clothes then put them into the drawer. That was how my life went.

I decided one day in my dulling months aboard the ship to think of my creation and imagine what I could do to screw it up in my dreams of course.

I missed the crew, genuinely.

One night I was outside on the floor staring at the night sky.

"And that is quite the image," I said. "I wonder if that's what everyone sees aboard the Enterprise. I wonder if that's what I would of seen. Passing stars already gone still letting lose their light. Hah. Not like they have to continuously yearn for work while miles away."

I knew I was miles away because there wasn't internet or cell service.

I also knew because I used a drone.

I stayed up for two weeks one time searching through the fog using a drone to see how far I was from shore.

Then I thought up a new race.

The Borg.

The Borg.

Theeee Boooorg!

I smiled while thinking at the night sky mapping out the race of these Borg. I can ruin my great universe in my dreams with them. I wanted to delete it. That is one way of deleting a timeline from the mind. One way of never going back. One way to make it easier for me to hit 'enter' once the command has been placed. I closed my eyes breathing in the sweet scent of the sea. The boat tipped sideways as the water lapped against the side. This was in 2065.

That night I had a dream.

A dream that I taught the Enterprise crew a lesson regarding believing they can fight against anything and come out victorious!

* * *

One night in 2066 I had a bad dream.

That my own Q creations turned against me and took away my powers because I had done so much bad things in the world. I was startled and caught off guard. I turned both sides in the bed. I believed being on the Enterprise would be the most safest route of life preservation. When I closed my eyes in the dream . . . I dreamed inside a dream. I know that is impossible because a given human being cannot dream inside a dream. I awoke from the second dream into the first dream.

In the dream I sat up right seeing a blue cloud hovering across from me.

"Mommy." I squeaked.

It felt intimidating and dangerous.

I ran straight to the force-field then banged my fists multiple times shouting.

"Let me out of here!" I shouted, banging my fists on the force-field. The side of my fists were getting burned. "Please!"

The men in red uniforms shrugged it off.

"I am not listening." The young man replied.

I backed away afraid of the flying fog like creature. Afraid of a fog like creature? Philip would laugh at me if I told him. I was terrified, simply, by a flying fog. I had this gut feeling indicating it was a dangerous foe. My gut feeling did not fail me nor did it prove me wrong. If my spine wasn't so firmly part of my skeletal part it would have been swaying from side to side trembling in fear. This gut feeling of mine indicated it is a force not to be reckoned with. Very dangerous. I could hear my heart race, my adrenaline running, and my skin sweating stepping back.

"I am not ready to die," I said. "Not yet!" My back came against the wall. "Help me!"

The young man glanced up from the console as I stared at the blue ball of fuzzy energy.

I had no idea who they were.

Nada.

Zilch!

"What the hell?" The young man said.

Then the fog entered me. It was almost like I had been electrocuted. Hot stinging pain starting from the chest spreading throughout my body. I could feel a burning sensation searing itself onto my skin. The electrical pain was horrifying. I closed my eyes. You know how when you are anticipating death you see your life flash before your eyes? Well, it went before me like a old film from long ago. And boy, did I scream. I don't know how long the electrical entity was inside me. I don't know how long the pain lasted nor how long the electricity was inside my body. I didn't know: period. But what I do know is that it exited out through my left foot. I collapsed to the floor feeling burns all over landing on the floor chest first.

Then Doctor Crusher came in along with nurses.

"Oh my god," Crusher said, in disbelief. "He is covered in burns. Get him to the burn unit!"

"Crusher . . . " I said. "I am tired . . . of being a fugitive," There were tears in my eyes. "I want to . . go. . . home. . .and work."

"Sssh, save your energy." Crusher said.

The nurses came back with a movable stretcher then put it under me.

"I am scared," I said. "I am so scared."

Crusher applied something to the side of my neck.

Then I blacked out. Dreaming inside a dream is impossible, as I said, but here I am dreaming inside a dream. I dreamed of chasing my old rottweiler Spike in a clearing as a child with my little brother. My little brother shouted, _"Wait up, big bro!"_ I laughed turning my head away going after the two year old dog. Spike had on a black collar with white spikes. Father first brought him into our life on Christmas day with a collar that had spikes so hence the name 'Spike'. This was a dream of the worst day I ever had in my childhood. And I never ever talk about it.

I shouted, _"Come back, Spike!"_

I woke from second dream back into the first dream. Except I was in a white room. I could not move. Not even a bit. I saw a glass window reflected the inside of the room back me. I could hear their voices. One was of the captain, Jean-Luc Picard, and second voice was of the doctor, Beverly Crusher, sharing a conversation. Their voices were low.

"Fugitive?" Picard repeated, probably raising a eyebrow.

"Yes, that is what he said." Crusher said.

Picard might have furrowed his eyebrows.

"So Q is on the run from his own people?" Picard said.

"Safe to say; he is." Crusher said.

Picard raised his voice.

"If you are responsible for the moon falling,Q, you will be held accountable for that!" Picard said, his hand on a red button. He took his hand off.

"Captain, he can't hear you. He is asleep." Crusher said.

I was behind them, now, strangely.

"I am not asleep." I said.

I spoke in . . Riker's voice?

"What is it, Number One?" Picard asked.

"This is impossible," I said. "This cannot be happening."

"Q covered in burns from head to toe is surreal," Picard agreed. "I didn't expect this to happen."

I looked over toward Crusher.

"May I visit Q?" I asked.

"Don't expect any answers,Commander." Crusher said.

"I won't." I said.

I entered the white room, again, this time in a body. I felt so young and stronger in this body than I had in my own. He felt so free. Never felt that free in my own body. But I do feel comfortable in my own body. I narrowed my eyes at the white covered body on what is apparently a biobed. I had a sigh then touch on the real me's shoulder. The next I was staring at a confused Riker back at his own body. He turned around appearing to be so unsure (which is unlike him because usually he is sure of himself). He scratched his head muttering, "How did I get here?".

At the end of the dream when fully put back to health by the efforts of Crusher and her medical equipment, I decided to risk my life and save the Enterprise.

Shortly after saving the day and all, and becoming Q again, I threw a celebration on the bridge.

I had to carry the act of being Q for as long as I could.

Someone I viewed to be quite . . oh well. . . heartless and the ideal picture of cold hearted assassin. Does Q answer prayers like god is supposed to?

 _No._

He does not.

Because Q is not real.

* * *

In 2067, I had quite the dream. On the night of Valentines day, I played Cupid with Picard and a lady of his interest named Vash. I liked it because I showed Picard that he is still got it. The groove really, all in the persona of Q while pointing out the negatives, thank the stars for Vash clarifying the meaning to Picard. I dreamed of taking Vash to places that were very unknown and perhaps boring. I was . . . myself around her. When she wanted the ride to end I had to show the true side of being around a godly being can do to her if that relationship is taken too 'casually'. I left her on the imaginary place called Deep Space Nine.

It then hit 2068, the year I ran out of food.

I had spent two Christmases, two thanksgiving, two Halloweens,two birthdays,and two valentines day on a boat.

I wanted to turn myself in.

I had a good sense of direction by the time I wanted to go back.

So I made my farewell's.

Of course catching fish isn't filling enough.

I made my farewells to my dream universe.

"Picard . . ." I said in Picard's room.

"Get out of my quarters!" Picard demanded.

I sighed.

"I am just here to say goodbye." I said.

Picard paused.

"What do you mean?" Picard asked.

"Goodbye, simple as that," I said, with my legs crossed. "It is your turn to say it."

"I won't say it unless I know what tricks and games you are up to!" Picard said, with eyes narrowed.

"I am turning myself in, Picard," I said. "I am unsure if we'll ever meet again or I will appear on your ship." I squirmed in the chair. "Being lonely on a boat for three some years . . . You gotta know that humans are social creatures and they need companionship." I saw the color in Picard's face drain. "Yes, I am a human. I am a programmer. I am just dreaming this universe up. I made it originally on the computer." I sighed. "I am just dreaming it up to make it easier for me to hit enter where I put the delete program in."

"Q. . ." Picard said.

"Yes?" I said.

"Are you dying?" Picard asked.

I laughed.

"Of course not, Picard!" I said, standing up. "This all began with a dream. . . A dream of visiting a reality where I called you Pikachu. Don't know why. You can't create thunderbolts. Also, you had hair and a mustache!" I gestured over in the direction of Picard. "I have to admit there were some people who were not programmed into the reality. I guess they made themselves," I shrugged. "But then again that is impossible but clearly possible."

Picard glared at me, half unsure to trust me or not.

"And you expect me to believe this?" Picard said.

I paused.

"No," I said. "I expect you to understand why you may never see me again."

"I doubt that I will see the last of you." Picard said.

I laughed.

"So typical of you," I said. "Not believing the facts, hmph."

"And what are the facts?" Picard asked.

"I am leaving." I said, dryly.

"I find that very hard to believe." Picard said.

I reappeared on the side of Picard's bed holding my hand out.

"Can't we share the first and last handshake we will ever have?" I asked.

Picard turned around toward me, appearing to be to be skeptical and his eyes were clearly saying, "Get off my bed,Q!"

"Who are you?" Picard asked.

I shook my head.

"Can't say. Just a ordinary joe smoe. Name don't matter now. Not important." I said.

Picard shook my hand, while half way up, looking at me cautiously.

"Goodbye, Q." Picard said.

I awoke with a cold sweat then cried as I did in all of my farewells. It was painful. A beautiful world that I can see. I changed the coordinates of the boat in the direction of civilization. It was like I had been preprogrammed myself to direct the boat when I wanted to return to civilization. On my self imposed exile I had done exercise, written three books, explored my dream universe, and got better on my fishing skills. The pelican that would land on the floor flapping its wings, then bow, and hold its beak open had appeared on the ledge of the boat.

I was sitting there staring at the night sky.

The pelican landed on the floor then held out its wings and held its beak open.

I looked over toward the pelican.

I didn't say a word as I recalled where it all began.

The pelican and I had a rather unusual relationship, I'll say. It all started shortly after I had awaken aboard this ship in the first place three years ago. I was eating soup on the first night. The bird, casually, landed on the table squawking or something like that acting so like a stupid bird bothering a joe smoe. The bird practically tried to gobble it all up! But noooo! I had to teach him manners. You can actually teach a bird manners.

"No soup." I said.

The pelican closed its beak and stared at me.

"Don't look at me like I am the bad guy." I said.

The bird stared at me more.

I sighed.

"Look!" I said, turning away from the wheel. "You got to fish! You are a bird! I am a MAN!" I tapped on my chest. "I go, you stay!"

The pelican stepped back lowering his head.

"Go!" I shouted. "GO!"

I kicked the bird off my ship and resumed course.

* * *

 **. . . 2068. .. . July 31st. . .**

 **. . . 12:48 PM. . .**

I didn't sleep for a couple days.

I was busy making sure the boat continued on course and had its daily maintenance.

On the final night there appeared a pelican who bowed before me and dropped a fish. So far my luck on catching fish had become absolutely zero. The fish flopped trying to get back to the sea. I take out a long pole then stab right into the fish. I looked toward the pelican who had his beak open to reveal more flopping fish. I simply said, "Those are yours to eat. This is my final day at sea, my old friend." The pelican closed his beak then flew off.

I cooked the dead fish.

That was the best fish I had in a long time.

And then in the morning hours I was back on shore on a beach.

"Ah, taste of land!" I said then fell straight on the sand.

I could hear the sounds of birds above me.

Thankfully I had my wallet and a grumbling stomach. I hammered the wooden stake into the ground, wrapped the rope around it to the ship, then went on my merry way. First I had breakfast at McDonalds. Then I went to the authorities to turn myself in. I standing at the door, gulping, very much afraid to step in or not. Then that stupid pelican landed on my shoulder. I looked over to the pelican with a frown. I saw a look in his eyes that were comforting. Strangely a human does not get comforted by a bird.

Don't be afraid.

That's what those eyes were telling me.

The pelican nudged me using his beak then he flew off.

I took a great sigh then entered the building.

Sea can change a man and so can loneliness. Instead of slow typical strides I had a fast quick and confident one. I was more aware of people then I was three years ago. I had a good guess half of the people here were reporting a crime, giving eyewitness statements, and there were some detectives following up. I came to the front desk with my hand in my hands. My hands were sweaty. My hands were relatively the same size as they were when I first grabbed onto the wheel. The man at the desk had his head lowered down toward the small holopad on the table.

"Hello." My voice came out high pitched.

The man looked up toward me.

"Hello there." My skin turned white to see a man I had only seen in my Program Q dreams.

 _Q2_.

The man smiled, elbows on the desk, brightly at me.

There was a golden name tag on his breast pocket that read Hope Frederick.

He had blonde hair and crystal eyes.

"Aren't you going to say 'Hello, Q'?" Frederick said, leaning forward. _I am going mad,_ I thought, _I have gone mad!_ "I know you were coming so I thought why not? Of course, you might be thinking you are going mad but you are not, trust me," The blood in my brain started to drain. " **You are not going mad** -"

I fainted.

* * *

 **. . . 2069. . .**

 **. . .July 1st. . .**

Eventually I got the chance to turn myself in last year.

Which lead to me being in prison for a couple hundred plus years.

No way of getting parole.

My workaholic ways had gone rusty. I didn't have the energy or stamina to busy myself. The only thing I could do was create license plates on my free time, clay figures that hardened, read, sleep,eat, and be in the courtyard reading one of my published books. Three books. I didn't join in the holiday spirit. I lost that a long time ago. A very long time ago. I knew that my Program Q had been deciminated and refurnished for a entirely different purpose. It pained me to see the Program Q had become a torture device for terrorists. I stopped dreaming.

Simply put, I lost the ability to dream.

Sometimes I missed that.

But I didn't see images, people, voices, songs, sound, and so on.

All I see is darkness when I close my eyes.

One day I fell ill.

Deathly ill.

Don't know how, don't ask.

"Mr Riker, what do you prefer to call yourself?" Came the Doctor.

"My name is Ryan Ryker, Junior," I said. "Stop calling me Riker."

"But that's how your name is spelled." The Doctor said.

"That is not how it is spelled," I said, annoyed briefly closing my eyes. "What do I have doc?"

"I am sorry,but you got . . ." The Doctor stopped himself. "The company is here."

I opened my eyes with a sigh.

"Who?" I asked.

The Doctor exited the room.

Men in black suits came in.

One closed the door them.

"We need to delete a program," Came the first man. "How do we do it?"

I tilted my head.

"I have a deathly illness and all you can ask is how to delete a program?" I said. "You bastards!" I tossed a lamp at the group. They seemed to be unfazed. I felt so weak. What did I have? I didn't know. "You destroyed my program!" My back rested on the sheet. "You destroyed my world. I don't know how to delete it without the original version! Best to destroy it while you can!"

The men did not seem to be impressed.

Or hurt.

Or traumatized.

Or insulted.

"There is a problem."

"And what is that?"

"The program Q is online."

"So, delete it!"

"We already did that."

"Oh really?"

"The procedures are still on going."

I felt rage.

Now it is a killer machine.

I felt tears coming to the corners of my eyes.

"LEAVE. ME. ALONE!" I shouted.

They did not budge.

"We need the program."

I held my hands out (Or more like robotic hands) showing them what being here has done. My hands were crushed, beaten, and cut off by some of the inmates here. My hands were removed to prevent infection. They quickly had to give me replacement parts for it. I had a look of anguish about my face.

"These hands cannot make program as they use to!" I shouted back. "YOU DESTROYED IT!" I pointed straight at the group. "I cannot rebuild her, rebuild every command, every coding, every intricate painstaking hour that went into this peaceful machine. I know you have used it on terrorists. Shredded it! I can not help you!"

The middle man stepped forward.

"Do you wish to help your ex-wife?" The middle man asked.

I paused, staring at him.

"She has nothing to do with this." I said.

The middle man sighed.

"She is in the program." The middle man said.

Sara is in the program.

 _Sara is in the Program Q._

 **Sarah is in the program.**

 _ **SARAH IS IN THE PROGRAM.**_

"SHE IS-WHAT?" I shouted.

The three men nodded.

"She made real time go faster for the program and has made a machine that has made certain aspects of it real." The first man said.

I sighed.

"There is nothing I can do." I said.

"Her being inside the program is what keeps it alive." The first man said.

I paused.

"It is alive?" I asked.

"Yes." The middle man said.

"I need a headset. . ." I said, then coughed into my servo. I noticed there were blood. I looked up toward the middle man. "Do you still have a pod?"

* * *

 **. . . 2069. .**

 **. . . July 4th. . .11:29 AM. . .**

"You have to go through this program's real time to get to her." Came the programmer. "If you are going to get her out, you must have some kind wormhole door to yank her out before she has the chance to escape."

I glared at the wimpy programmer.

"I have a couple months to live physically," I said. "And I strongly suspect this government has a part in it. So don't you dare remind me."

The wimpy programmer sighed.

"I am just paid to make sure you understand." The wimpy programmer said.

"I have everything laid out." I said.

"Program ready." Came the computer.

"Good luck." The programmer said, then closed the lid on me.

I knew that time was made non-linear by the Program Q.

My ex-wife, Sarah Montgomery Ryker, is in a chair tilted upwards connected to the machine keeping Program Q alive. She must have sneaked in, learn the passcodes, hacked her way into it, and got into the position to hold a lot of lives in her hands. I was told the program had become . . . psychological that it continued in the minds of those who had been joined in. I heard the familiar voice to the program. I close my eyes, then said, "Enter."

It is there I met Amanda Rogers.

I systematically made the downfall of the figure Q.

The very image I designed to be viewed as.

I returned, though, when it seemed the program Picard was going to die.

He had constructed his past.

I showed him why he shouldn't have regrets for becoming a powerful and very legendary figure. Apparently the events where I said my goodbye never happened but the other events before that DID happen. I checked my history. I found that odd. So all of it was . . . and had. . . happened? The Borg? Playing Robin Hood? Being brought down to their pathetic and fictional level? I was baffled. Was there a hitch in the program that still operated even though I wasn't using the machine to visit the world? It was questionable at best. Picard eventually came to admission he would rather die as the man he was than the man he wanted to be. It made me feel proud. Proud that he realized who he was supposed to be. I wish I had the valor Picard had.

"Picard. . ." I said. "I have something to admit before I go."

"Yes?" Picard said.

I heaved a sigh.

"I am dying." I said.

"No, you are not." Picard said, in disbelief.

"Yes, I am," I said. "My vessel. . . is dying."

"Q, you are no where near to being mortal!" Picard said.

I held my fingers up.

"Let me show you what you are living in." I said.

I snapped my fingers.

It all became like the holodeck that wasn't being operational. There was coding passing by, diagrams in the color of blue contrasting against the dark scenery surrounding us. Picard stepped forward reaching his hand forward. He turned around red faced. I didn't know what he was thinking. I didn't want to know what he was thinking at all. I could feel the illness taking its toll on my real body. I had a sad, sad look about my face.

"This is one of your tricks, isn't it?" Picard asked.

"No." I said.

"Q, tell me the truth!" Picard demanded.

"THIS IS THE TRUTH, JEAN-LUC!" I shouted. "Everything you see is _real_!" I waved my arms in the air. "THIS is your program!"

I pointed at a program hovering above his head with several numbers,words, color codes, and commands.

Picard appeared to be horrified gazing up at his program.

Picard lowered his head in my direction.

"What about you?" Picard asked, softly.

"I am real. Real. . . as you should be." I turned around. "I am sorry. . . I should have never done this to you. Made . . . you . . . as a program." I rubbed the side of my shoulder. "I have six months to live. . . Possibly. . . Maybe more."

"Q. . . How long did you know?" Picard asked.

"'Four days." I said.

"Maybe we could help you." Picard offered.

I softly smiled.

"Thank you for the thought," I said. "But I am not a program like you."

"Q. . . why did you not tell us the truth earlier?" Picard said.

"Because . . ." I said. "Delete experience regarding the truth and return scenery to theme white."

The scenery returned to its usual color.

"Q, may I now go back to my life?" Picard asked.

I smiled.

If I left Picard with the truth he would tell everyone else and he wouldn't live with that information. He couldn't steer his future to the way it should go and he would get left behind. He would stop operating, simply. He would go out of his mind! Insane, trying to stop the program from running any further once a event that he did not like had happened. I had to do it for his own good. I guess my smile must had been sad than how I was trying to make it seem. Why? Because that earned a look of concern from good old Picard.

My smile must have said more.

"Q?" Picard asked. "What is wrong?"

"That is simply the reply I have been wanting to hear from you," I said. " _Mon capitaine_."

I snapped my fingers sending Picard back to his body and repaired his cardiac heart.

I speeded toward our last encounter. The one where he balanced three different programs at the same time. If a program can handle three why not the human conscience? It can be a lot of mess, craziness, and difficult to keep track of the different timelines on the mind but it is possible! Possible, I say! This just goes to show how the modern day scientists are wrong that we are incapable of managing other timelines through a process called mind hopping. Controlling the bodies of different versions of ourselves.

This time I didn't tell Picard.

But Picard easily deduced I was dying.

"Something is wrong," Picard noted. "Isn't there?"

"Other than the universe dying, why yes." I said.

"No, it is not." Picard said.

I frowned.

"Yes, it is!" I argued back. "Ever heard of the big crunch theory?"

Picard's face softened.

It was the amused kind of one.

"You are dying." Picard said.

I sighed.

"You are not supposed to know that." I said.

"That will be our little secret." Picard said.

I folded my arms with a sigh.

"The universe is constantly dying, so it is not any surprise." I said.

"Your face is whiter than I ever seen it." Picard said.

I glared at program.

"So?" I asked.

"You are ill." Picard said.

I raised a eyebrow unfolding my arms.

"You are white, does that mean anything?" I asked.

Picard put one hand on his face then rubbed it facing his head downwards.

"Q, stop denying the truth," Picard took his hand off his face. "You are dying and there isn't a cure for it in your society."

I sighed.

"You got me, Jean-Luc," I said, hands in the air. "And . . ." I eyed him lowering my hands. "And there _could_ be a cure for it! Not like **I AM DYING**!"

"Q, why didn't you tell me this earlier?" Picard asked.

"Because at that time I never had it." I said.

Picard did not seem to believe me.

"When you first appeared you looked ill, but I didn't say anything about it because I thought it was part of your act," Picard admitted. "You are in denial of dying. If my doctor had a look at you then perhaps we can find the cause of your ailment-"

"No!" I shouted. "No!" I shook my head. "No!" I shook my hands both ways. "NO!"

Picard had a terrified expression.

"Q. . . your nose. . ." Picard said.

I put one finger below my nose then held my finger in my line of sight.

Blood.

I looked up toward Picard with a serious expression.

"Don't speak of this to anyone, Jean-Luc," I said. "I will see you . . . Out there."

"Q!" Picard shouted.

I snapped my fingers.

I will miss Picard.

Just like I did for the past two years.

I orchestrated the following events to lead me directly to my ex-wife Sarah. The _Voyager_. A back up programmed starship to lead directly into the events to find Sarah. It had been only one hour since coming back into the Program Q. The back up version that had been brought back from the depth of corruption. Being a programmer means I can meddle leading directly into the event I have to exchange with Sarah.

Brought a new and improved Q.

The philosopher.

A bitterly and friendly depressed man.

I made three judges to make it realistic.

I made a program to disguise my appearance.

I then made a civil war occur.

And made it very crucial that producing a baby would solve all the problems. Part program Q godly, part program Q human. A baby with influences of both programs to balance into the program. This civil war was taking a strain on the program itself and the star system that was plotted out by these Q. I was going to be executed by my own creations. I lowered my appearance program to give the sickly appearance I have been avoiding to show for a very, _very_ long time. Kathryn stared at me in shock.

"Q?" Kathryn said. "What have you not been telling me?"

"I have a bad case of the flu?" I said, weakly in a squeaky voice.

"So Picard wasn't kidding about you hiding the truth." Kathryn said.

"Ready," Came Colonel Q. "Aim," I faced in the direction of what could possibly be my executioner. "Fi-"

"FREEZE!" Came the elf eared being along with several other members of the Voyager.

Oh right, he was a Vulcan.

"Ryker!" Came Sarah.

I snapped my fingers making a different program run in the place of our embrace. To everyone it seemed like we were busy catching up on what was hip and hop, basically the happenings since we last departed. We were in the middle of hugging, simply. My servos were on her back. I could smell her expensive sweet perfume. My nose was pressed into her hair. I took my nose out of her hair feeling glee. My hands going through her light brown shoulder length hair are one of many things about her that I have missed. One of many things since becoming divorced with Sarah and moving out.

"Ryker, why are you here?" Sarah asked.

"Begin child program." I said, with my eyes closed.

"Ryker?" Sarah repeated, puzzled.

"End program," I said. "Delete Program Q after one hour."

* * *

 **. . . 2069. .**

 **. . . July 4th. . .2:30 PM.**

My eyes opened to see my ex-wife standing by my bed looking over me appearing to be sad. Her face made me smile. I recognized the scenery as the prison hospital ward. I did not feel the yearning of freedom. I felt so safe. I felt happy. Happy than I ever had in a long time. Three years and so on the ocean has made me a grateful man. A happy man to be in the company of others. Listening to the radio that operated even when there wasn't any internet. The news was my way to the outside world. Now here I am in the outside world. Sarah being safe, her life no longer being threatened by the program, and she appeared to be skinnier than I had last seen her. Her cheeks were more obvious to me.

"Happy . . . July 4th, Sara. . ." I said.

"You didn't have to do that." Sarah said, holding my hand.

"Far as I know, you were in that chair for six months," I said. "You were the lifeline of the program. . ."

Sarah had tears in her eyes.

"It won't shut down." Sarah said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"It is alive, Ryker." Sarah said.

I looked at Sarah.

"How long since you got back?" I asked.

"One hour." Sarah said.

"Please," I said. "Don't try to bring it back."

"Ryan. . . It won't shut down." Sarah said, again.

The Doctor came in.

"I am sorry," The Doctor apologized. "I am so sorry." He put one hand on his chest. "His condition is unique. We can't help him."

"There's a way around that, tell me!" Sarah demanded.

"I am sorry, there is no way." The Doctor said.

I squeezed her hand.

"Don't. . ." I said. "I have lived a long and rich but worth it all life. Straineous. Time consuming. Life threatening. . . This is the best adventure I had in a long time."

I let go of Sarah's hand.

"I. . . I can't accept that." Sarah said.

Sarah went out the door followed by the doctor.

"Sad, eh?" Came a familiar voice.

I looked toward my left to see Frederick sitting down in a chair.

"You are only of my imagination." I said, turning my head away.

I saw a white flash appear to my side.

"I am very much real, Q." Frederick said.

"Stop calling me Q!" I shouted. "My name is Ryan Ryker!"

Frederick had a smile folding his arms.

"Much like a alias Stan Lee hands his superheroes." Frederick remarked.

"Go. Just go." I said.

"You are perhaps the most interesting version of Q I ever came across." Frederick said.

I briefly closed my eyes.

"Q is not real." I said.

"He is." Frederick said.

"He is not." I said.

I weakly opened my eyes.

"Why bother me?" I asked.

"Because you are Q." Frederick said.

I sighed, annoyed.

"But you just said 'most interesting version of Q' so that means you are lying." I said.

Frederick smiled.

"You got me . . ." Frederick said. "You dying like that is not good."

"How do you know what is good and what is not good when you are fictional!" I pointed out.

"I am close to godly as I can get, Programmer!" Frederick shouted at me.

"That's it!" I said. "That's the difference between us! I am real and you are not! You are a Q and I am a human programmer!"

Frederick sighed.

"Stop referring to me as Frederick and refer to me as Q." Frederick said, his voice lowered.

"I haven't been calling you by name." I said.

"In your perspective, you are." Frederick said.

I scowled.

"Catch this, GODLY BEING!" I shouted.

I picked up a lamp then tossed it at Frederick.

Frederick vanished then reappeared the foot of my bed.

The lamp crashed to the floor with a kling.

"You don't believe in god, don't you?"

"There is no god."

"There are god like beings out there, Q. God does exist in a sense."

"STOP. CALLING. ME. Q."

Frederick stared at me.

There was wonder in those crystal pair of eyes.

"When did you lose your faith in godly beings?" Frederick asked.

My digits curled up into a fist.

"Since the day I discovered God wasn't real." I said.

Frederick stepped back with his arms behind his back.

"Oh, the day when your little brother fell down a cliff by accident. You were over his body, weeping and praying. You had gone a few miles searching for help but you always came back for him. You wished there be a miracle. But you got no miracle. At the end of the day, at nightfall, when the search party found you and your brother. . . . Sam was dead. You grew bitter. You stopped attending Church. You lost your faith that day and your lack of faith has brought you here."

"No, it has not!"

"YES, IT HAS EVERY REASON FOR YOU TO BE HERE!"

The Doctor came into the room.

"What's all the shouting about?" The Doctor asked.

"Me." Frederick said.

The Doctor looked over in the direction of Frederick.

"Well, you weren't here before." The Doctor said.

Frederick snapped his fingers.

"Now you got a bird nest on your head." Frederick said.

The Doctor took the nest off his head then stared at Frederick for the longest time.

"Can you? . . ." The Doctor said.

"No. He can only take care of his illness by accepting that his brother was meant to die and that . . . God does exist." He turned toward my direction. "If Sam never died then you wouldn't become the man you are today. A programmer. In fact you would have been the one who preached rather than the one created anything. God knew that you would make some-one great one day. . . So He had to bring back the little boy. Your little brother had a purpose. And he has since fulfilled that." He held his hand up. "Goodbye."

Frederick snapped his fingers vanishing into thin air within a white flash.

* * *

 **. . . May 4th. . .**

 **. . . 2070. . .3:47 PM.**

Before Sarah left that fateful day, she explained a little more about it being alive.

Simply put: the characters were coming alive.

The program was operating on its own. It had somehow got the capabilities of holoprojections in the matter of years because of the intervention of the government. It made sense why Frederick acted a lot like Q2. So he thinks he is Q2 capable of doing anything he wanted. But how did he make the nest appear on The Doctor's head? It was surely head scratching. I was put into the hospice ward section of the prison.

I was quite happy where I was, mind you, in the most secured place on the planet.

I opened my eyes to see a figure appear.

A familiar one I hadn't seen in two years.

My eyes widened recognizing the figure.

 _Oh shit_.

"Q!" The Klingon said. "Why are you here?"

"My name is not Q," Was the first thing I muttered. "And second of all it is Ryan Ryker. Call me Ryker, microbrain!"

This is Worf.

"So you are Q!" Worf said.

I sighed.

"Damn me and my mouth." I said.

I then coughed into my metal palm spitting out blood.

"You . . ." Worf stepped back then observed his surroundings. "Are sick." He looked around. "Where am I?"

"You are in the hospice ward part of the prison located . . . I really don't know. Never asked. Why don't you ask the pretty blonde doctor over there?" I weakly gestured over to the pretty nurse in a white uniform that had a white short skirt. "She could be more helpful than I."

Worf had a low growl toward me then he went toward the woman in the white uniform.

I take out a piece of tissue paper then clean my metal hands including use some hand sanitizer. I don't know what kind of metal my servos were made from but what I do know is it doesn't get stained by hand sanitizer. Even without human squishy hands I feel the need to clean my servos. Some days I have the phantom limbs affect lingering. I feel my fingers. My squishy soft fingers still feel attached. It has been months since I lost them. But yet I still feel them. Even though I have servos in the placement of hands it feels so surreal. I remind myself at the end of my day the reality of the situation when taking my servos off (Some nights I don't take them off) to see the rounded circular edges where the remaining part of the hand was amputated right at where the wrist began. It still feels a bit weird to see this strange phenomena about my arms.

The feeling to puke out what I had eaten previously was long gone.

I wasn't that sick anymore these days.

But instead what was left behind was a knack for sleep and weakness.

However I could still prop myself up, use my hands, use eating related silver ware, hold cups, drink,eat, think, talk, and so on.

Walking though.

That was a entirely different story.

My eyes felt heavy and they closed.

Though I could still hear voices.

"OH MY GOD." Came a woman's scream.

"Where am I?" Worf asked.

"Stay away from me!" The young woman stepped back, terrified.

I forced my eyes open.

"Worf, you are terrifying the poor woman!" I shouted. I was not in a hospital gown but in a gray jumpsuit similar to the stereotypical orange jumpsuit that was discarded a couple decades ago. "What planet are we on?"

"-P-Pluto." The woman said.

"See?" I said. "Jolly old Earth, we are not on a dwarf planet-" I stopped freezing in place. "But Pluto is not a planet. You liar! Say the truth!"

"Pluto!" The young woman said. "You are on Pluto Prison Base on Mars."

I froze, my hand still extended.

"But. . . Mars. . . . No. . . No," I said. "Mars is nothing like Earth!" I got up using the counter as support to get up. "I have been outside! I have seen the trees, the roads, the birds, and the same dusty clouds up in the air. I must be on Earth." I continued pressing forwards no longer using the counter as my support. "You cannot be telling me that I have been transported on a scientifically impossible planet that hasn't got a straight answer on the duration date it takes to get from Earth to Mars."

"Two days." Worf said.

"I am not talking about your era, Worf," I said. "I am talking about MINE!"

"Mars was terraformed five years ago." The woman said.

"Go. . ." I said. "And alert security there's a program . . ." I started to feel very off balance walking. My whole world froze. It was like I had taken a picture using my eyes. "On the loose."

Though my feet are cuffed by some metal binds that are a lot like shackles.

Directing myself in these shackles is a skill I have acquired.

I landed on the ground where I hit my head and my world became the familiar darkness.

* * *

 **. . .May 5th . .12:59 PM. . .**

 **. . . 2070. . .**

I awoke.

The first thing I had seen was a circular hole in the sky made by the rows of trees. The next I noticed were the dark brown tree barks, the sounds coming from all around me, and what felt like soil beneath me. I also noticed smoke rising alongside me. One; where is the smoke coming from? Two; is it coming from me? No, it totally must not. I would be able to tell if it were coming from me. I am assured of that. I sniffed meat. Cooked meat. Well cooked.

"We're not in prison, are we?" I asked.

"About time you woke up," Came Worf. "You have been out for a day."

I heard my stomach growl.

"All. . . day?" I asked, sitting up right.

I saw that he was cooking a large torso that might have belonged to a deer.

"All day," Worf repeated. "And I had to remove your shack-" He stared at my servos then turned his attention up. "Are you . . . human?"

I nodded, wiggling my feet, gleefully.

"Do I look young as I did when I first appeared on the bridge?" I asked.

Worf appeared to be surprised.

"No," Worf said. "You look. . . older. Older as I had seen you in 2366."

"Aww shucks," I said. "I just . . ." I paused. "Let me give you an example. Program: activate sub routine glitch 2.28." Worf briefly faded out of existence and then he became solid. Worf looked down toward his sizzling hands. "I had developed a program to stimulate aging when viewed by other people when jumping through history to catch my ex-wife and pull the plug on a old program that you come from!" I gesture toward Worf. "Program: Deactivate sub routine glitch 2.28. As of right now you are organically real. Holographically organically REAL! Blood, muscles, veins, brain,heart, stomach, pancreas, appendix, intestines and so on."

"I am a holoprogram?" Worf said.

"No, you are not exactly a holoprogram," I said. "You are one hundred percent Klingon. You, as of right now, are a organic based Klingon ripped out of a program."

"Tell me what is a program in your words." Worf said.

"Think of a program as a living, breathing organism that requires coded instructions that makes automatic performance for a given specific task."

"I am not acquainted with programming." Worf said.

I sighed.

"Think of it as a brain," I said. "That needs helpers. I am one of those helpers. I create and recreate new line of programs to patch old ones that ceased to work. Programming is a delicious hobby. It is very . . . very intricate. One action. One command." I held up my index finger. "One wrong move and you can destroy the entire program. Kaput. Dead. No point in salvation." I lowered my hands. "It is a lot like being a Q."

Worf looked at me strangely.

"Are you saying you created me?" Worf asked.

I frowned.

"No," I said. "You were born by your own parent programs." I shook my hands. "I didn't create you!"

Worf raised a brow.

"Then you must have a hand in my creation." Worf said.

"I created a . . . Holodeck like program called Program Q," I said. "Your universe . . Or the one you left . . . was _deleted_ a couple weeks ago."

"My universe was . . . deleted?" Worf said.

I slowly nodded.

"Deleted," I repeated. "I am sorry . . . But the program was corrupted. If it is still around then it must be in the deep web."

"Well, it must be in the deep web as I am here." Worf said.

I lowered my head.

"I am suspecting you came because I still have a open connection psychologically to the program," I said. "And Worf. . . I haven't told you something."

"And what is it?" Worf asked.

I lifted my head up toward Worf.

"Do not pity me." I said.

Worf looked at me, puzzled.

"Just that?" Worf said.

"I am a dying man," I said. "Which is a reason why I was in the hospice ward."

Worf's eyes grew large.

"No, you are Q, you cannot be dying." Worf said.

"It is a lot like the song 'The Doctor is dying' except it is not that funny," I commented, with a slight laugh. "Please, call me Ryker." I felt something drip from my nose. I wipe off below my nose then hold it up in my line of vision. I look in the direction of Worf. "You must help me back to the hospice."

"I can't." Worf said.

"Why?" I asked, wiping the blood off on a small leaf.

For the first time, I saw Worf act sheepish.

"Hours after you collapsed I was interrogated, not that I have been interrogated before, but they accused me of being a fraud and not a Klingon. They wanted to prod at me. Once I told them that my forehead was born that way, this uniform came with the duties of both Tactile and Security, and that I could speak Klingonese: I may have convinced them to bring me over to their planet and do some testing."

And I did something that I never did to Worf.

I laughed.

Worf appeared to be baffled.

"I do not see how that is funny." Worf said, sounding insulted.

"It must have sounded a lot like Mandarin Chinese to them." I said.

Then there was that 'Oh' expression on his face.

"I have been wondering what they meant by Mandarin Chinese." Worf said.

I weakly smiled.

"Continue your story, Mr Worf." I said.

Worf looked at me oddly.

"I am not going to get used to that," Worf said. "You calling me by name."

"You are going to use that," I said. "Until I find a way to return you into your universe."

"Anyway," Worf said. "I am uncomfortable with being tested on. I was unaware that you talked in your sleep regarding your mother,your son, and your mate . . . " Worf stopped himself. Worf faked a cough. "I found myself rather uncomfortable around you when you were asleep. I find myself preferring when you are most awake over you in your sleep."

I had a short laugh.

"I don't have a mate." I said.

"But you called her name out. Her name was Sarah." Worf said.

"She was my ex-mate." I said.

"Oh . . . You had a divorce." Worf said, softly.

"Bitter one. I let my work consume my life," I said. "mostly because I loved to work and I did love my family but there was this one program that I thought could win me big."

"And it flopped." Worf said.

"It bombed in the market place. . ." I noted in self-shame. "Why did you take me instead of saving yourself?"

"Because at the time I thought you could take me home." Worf said.

I sighed turning my attention down.

"I can delete you . . . " I turned my attention toward Worf. "But that _wouldn't_ get you home," I said. "I may not be able to snap my fingers and fix everything like I used to. . . But I can try to get you home." I raised a eyebrow. "Mr Worf,how far are we from civilization?"

"Still a ways away, and it is the afternoon. This is lunch." Worf said.

I was surprised.

"I never imagined you to be the cooking type." I said.

"Cooking is a integral part of our cultural." Worf said.

"I see." I said.

"Why did you create my universe?" Worf asked.

"I was bored." I said.

"You were bored." Worf said.

"Exactly." I said.

"Why am I not surprised?" Worf said.

I smiled.

"Because I was Q." I jokingly said.

"What do you have?" Worf asked.

"Diagnoses unknown," I said. "But I am still kicking. Haven't kicked the bucket, yet."

"There is no bucket around here." Worf said.

I had a heavy sigh.

"Worf, that means I haven't died yet." I said.

"Oooh," Worf said, with a nod. "I understand. I have wondered what that meant for a long time."

There was a long silence between us.

What was Worf wondering?

Perhaps how to apologize to a dying man?

A apology would be good enough for me on my end of the stick. I could hear the sounds of birds kawing their usual sound in the forest, the croak of frog like creatures, chirps and clicks of various creatures, including the sound of what can be referred to as insects. I thought back to a happier time staring at the fire. The first time I ever met Sarah Montgomery. The woman who changed my life for the better (From a shabby man who organized terribly and worked at McDonalds. It is thanks to her that I discovered a outlet to actually using my programming skills. She used to work for a programming company and her father was the CEO of it). Ten years ago, I was only twenty at the time. Now? I am thirty. Our son hadn't been born at the time. Now? He must be nine perhaps ten if I am guessing correctly.

I thought back at how I flattered Sarah.

And impressed her with my dancing skills during a dance.

Our first dance in fact.

"Why are you dying, Ryker?" Worf spoke up.

I shrugged looking away from the flames.

"I don't know." I said.

"You are the godly figure to us, but seeing you. . . so ill. . . so mortal. . . So . . ." Worf said. "It is a lot like seeing Kahless die all over again!" He unhooked the deer torso then spread it onto large leaves usually seen in the rain forest. "I never wanted to see you, of all people, wither before my eyes."

"Most of the time I will be resting," I said. "A reason why I should be in-" I coughed into my servo coughing out a pool of blood. I held my trembling metal hand then turned my attention toward Worf. "A hospice."

I turned my hand upside down across from myself.

"I feel sorry for you." Worf said.

"Don't." I said

"Why?" Worf said.

"Because you'll feel guilty that you were unable to help me. I will head back on foot to the prison after I have some fuel." I said.

"You'll never get back there on your two feet." Worf said.

I sighed.

"It's the best shot I have to dying peacefully under my terms. To control my death. The only way I will ever play god in real life. **MY LIFE** , Mr Worf!" I said. "Can't I just control that? I want there to be no regrets in my life. Every avenue has been wasted. Every outlet. Every revenue. Every ounce of my energy has been applied to something meaningful my entire life!" I lowered my voice. "I will rest in-between hours . . ."

Worf frowned.

"Ryker, you make it too easy for people to care." Worf said.

"No, I do not!" I said.

"Listen, when we get to civilization and a computer to send me back, I will gladly go back and you will have someone take you back but not on foot!" Worf said. "You are only up for only so few hours in the day." I looked away. That part was true. Brutally true. "You are only awake because you are starving. Your body is fighting against the threat using what white blood cells it can."

I tapped on my chin, lightly.

"Let me guess, you did some research on the human physiology after that soccer accident." I said.

"Yes." Worf said.

I smiled.

"After I made my farewells, that were not recorded into your universe, I turned myself in," I said, after my smile faded. "And got sent to prison with no chance of getting out. I fell ill recently. Instead of being sad and furious about it . . . I was happy. I just see it as the final chapter in my life." I looked toward Worf who had a puzzled expression. "As I said, I have a open psychological connection to your world. I can't dream. I stopped dreaming a long time ago. Some one went into the program and deleted my farewell with your crew leaving my experiences on the _Voyager_ and _Deep Space Nine_ intact."

"The _Voyager_ . .. is out there?" Worf asked.

"Yes," I nodded. "It is."

Worf took out a pocket blade.

"What did you say to me before you left?" Worf asked.

"I said one word," I said. "It was very easy to say. And then you gratefully said, I quote, 'Goodbye, and do not bother me and my family'. Which I never bothered your family being Alexander, your mate, your father, your brother, your grandfather . . . In fact that is just a . . ." I coughed, again, harder, into my hand. This time no blood came out. "Good riddance. For once no blood came out." I had a short laugh. "That is a relief!" Worf was cutting the well cooked meat using his knife. "Anyway, that is a avenue I went down."

"Why?" Worf asked.

"Because. . . You are a lucky man, Mr Worf," I said. "You had a family. Something that I didn't have at the time. . ." I lowered my head. "My mother died a month after I left. I knew it because she was in the news. The radio was crystal clear on that day. She was in a all out police chase half-way around the nation." I shrugged. "I don't know how she did it but she made it to the other side of the US. She was a very stubborn woman. I don't know how she managed to get fuel."

"You are alone in the universe." Worf said, in a low voice.

"Much like Q was," I said. "He used to be. Now I have made him a program and given a family. I have nothing for me to live another day except to die under my conditions."

"Maybe you will dream again," Worf said. "Your experiences here are different. You are in a different environment."

That made me appreciate Worf a little more.

"If I could, I would you dream you back into your world." I said, as Worf had made the leaves act like plates putting some meat on them.

Worf paused looking at me with one hand on his knees.

"Were you ever in theater?" Worf asked.

I had a chortle.

"I use to be very engaging in the drama sector," I said. "I put some of my drama skills to the character Q."

"Surprisingly, when I thought about it, you reminded me of an actor playing a character on the stage." Worf said.

"I _was_ acting." I said.

"You are a very good actor." Worf said.

"Why thank you, Mr Worf." I said.

* * *

 **. . . May 5th. . .4:29 PM. . .**

 **. . . 2070. .**

It felt like five hours had passed. It was a constant struggle to stay awake. I asked that Worf tell me about some of the adventures he had being assigned to the Enterprise. As he did I leaned my side against the wooden bark briefly closing my eyes. I had to stay awake for Worf. I can't just fall to the ground right now. I have a promise to fulfill. A promise I made to myself. I stepped forward continuing on my slow but gradual pace. Worf was in the mist of telling a funny but rather serious story regarding Riker and a she/he being who decided on their gender. It was a sad story,really, if only there could have been a Vulcan to get rid of the memory of this person for Riker. But then again that experience shaped Riker in more ways than one.

Worf stopped abruptly at the end of his story and didn't speak.

"Mr Worf?" I called, tiredly.

I heard a twig crack.

I looked around noticing how far we had gone into the forest that had been peaceful and comforting but now it had become frightening and creepy. I gulped, my eyes wide awake, and my body still insisting I rest. Where was Worf? I heard feet shuffling from the forest. Well, Worf is too cautious to do that! I came to abrupt stop gazing around the scenery. I was still as a buck searching for danger in the unsettling scene. I heard another twig crack. Like a buck, I ran. The whole notion of sleeping was behind my back. I have heard the stories about Programmer Snatchers. Programmers like me who were alone at night had to be aware of these kind of people. The ones who would kidnap programmers, enslave them for a dirty task that features crude programming put together, and never let go unless they died in their hands. The idea of being captured by Program Snatchers wasn't too fantastic, I will say.

I heard branches breaking apart behind.

I didn't look over my shoulder.

I did not _dare_ do that.

You never know where Programmer Snatchers lurk.

I do know they are real.

They tried to abduct me eight years ago when in the company of Sarah. I was a very well known programmer back then for smashing successes. I was a better man back then. Before I got very obsessed into constructing programs. Back when I was in the education system I had a knack for breaking apart programs and putting them back together on the computer. My computer teacher was impressed and recommended I go into programming, back then I was very much interested in drama and acting. Look where that got me? I worked for McDonalds for a couple years for five dollars and eighty-nine cents per hour.

Now, one might be wondering how the hell I met Sarah.

It was at a dance.

My second High School reunion.

A friend of mine brought her (She never attended my school) because he needed a dance partner. But anyway, he got another one instead and I ended up dancing with Sarah.

 **Crack**

 **Cra-rck**

 **crack**

 **crack**

 **crack**

 **crack**

 **crack**

My heart was racing.

I could have slipped.

I was very afraid.

In fact, I did slip on the ground knee first.

I used the root of a tree to get up and ran, ran, ran fast as I could hearing the cracking get louder and louder! I swear I felt like one of those people in a horror movie running from imminent death. A cruel form of death. I could have stopped but I didn't. I didn't stop and turn around, my hands to my side, then demand the entity get done with whatever intention he/she has. I was ashamed of myself, really, for not doing that! But I valued my life better than that. I saw a metal wall with the shape of a door right ahead of me. _Door_. _Door_. _Door_.

 **CCCRAAACK**

 **CRAAAAAAACK**

 **CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH**

 **CRUNCH CRUNCH CRACK CRUNCH CRACK CRUNCH**

And then I was punched straight at the gut sending me down to my knees, hands landed into the dirt, and my breathing was shallow.

"Oh look, it's the escaped programmer!" Came a high pitched male voice.

I looked up to see older men cracking their knuckles.

"The one who made Program Q." The man with a beard said.

 _Shit_.

"The one responsible for my year of hell." The high pitched man said.

I was regaining my breath when the man with a beard grabbed me by my shirt collar then pressed me against a large tree.

"You bastard. Do you have anything to say for yourself?" The bearded man asked.

"It wasn't supposed to be used that way!" I said. "It never was!"

The man with a high pitched voice frowned.

"I believe we should make him pay for what he did." The high pitched man said.

"I agree," The second man said. "Let's beat him up."

"That's the major reason we came to this planet for!" The third man said.

The bearded man punched me in the stomach making me cower over. A hard kick was delivered to my side knocking me down to the ground with a simple thud. I curled up taking in their beatings. Not the first time I got beaten up. When I was the short laughing stock at school there were some jocks who made it clear that I wouldn't get their girlfriends. I wasn't even intending on getting a girlfriend back then! All I cared about was surviving high school! Apparently because I bumped into the girls, stuttered a lot, and failed on refusing on helping them must have been a reason. A major reason. I never understood those jocks. One time they put my head into the toilet, decorated my locker in glue, covered my books in slime, rolled me down a hill in a trash can, and used my short stature to their advantage by holding my lunch box above me! Of course this was way before I grew taller.

I closed my eyes.

Five, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes tops?

And then I heard a shout I never should have heard unless I was in the Program Q.

"Captain!" Came Worf.

"Captain-what?" Came the high pitched man.

They stopped turning away from me (That I knew because their boots turned the other direction) in the direction of some-one turned their direction.

"Step away from the man." Came Picared's voice.

"Oh, and what are you going to do with that toy blaster?" The bearded man said. "Squirt me with water?"

"This," Picard held it up. "Is not a toy."

"Try us." The high pitched man said.

"Captain, I strongly recommend against showing them." Worf said

"Not going to harm them, isn't it?" Picard asked.

I heard the sound of a a blast strike a tree that fell in my direction. I was terrified, really, so I rolled away feeling a sharp pain in my ribs. When I had stopped rolling I looked down to see my metal palm had been damaged inwards. I didn't want to die. No really, I did not. My shoulders were radiating pain. PAIN! This kind of pain is similar to the one I had encountered with the foggy species called the . . .Calamarain? Oh yes, that's their name. I felt the tired feeling come back. Lingering at the back of my head.

Picard was with a young woman. . . Who was she?

I should know who she is!

She had red shoulder length hair, blue eyes, and a uniform that would be worn for a medical officer from a security team stationed on Earth. It was black with blue outlines. She had matching black boots. Picard had on a captain's uniform that was dark but had red outlines with matching black stealth boots. They had white metal like symbols on their chest that had two triangles conflicting each other. CRUSHER! Beverly Crusher! Oh my, I remember!

"Geeze, you don't know what this programmer did!" The bearded man retorted.

"Create a artificially realistic world, yes." Picard said.

"No, he made a torture device!" The high pitch man said. "If you were in it then you will understand the psychological trauma he put us through!"

"Fortunately," Picard said. "You are talking to one of his programs. I was in that program. Both programs, in fact."

I felt so pained, so weak, and tired.

I just drifted asleep during the face off.

* * *

 **. . .May 6th. . .6:29 AM. . .**

 **. . . 2070. . .**

 _"Two years of searching and here he is," Came Beverly's voice. "Sleeping . . ."_

 _"He was on a boat for the majority of last year." Worf said._

 _"A boat?" Beverly repeated._

 _"A boat in the middle of the ocean," Worf said. "Before he was sick."_

 _"I am not sick, I am a failing man in the mists of dying," I said. "There is a fine line between . . . dying. . . and being able to get better."_

 _"Tell the captain Q is awake." Beverly said._

 _I noticed I was in a medical related room with one bed, medical equipment, a tray with food on the table, my eyes were stuck on the jello. I could feel the pain in my ribs subsiding. Worf left the room. I winced attempting to move my left arm. Why couldn't I move my arms?_

 _"Q. . ." Beverly started._

 _"The name is Ryan Ryker Junior," I said. "Call me Ryker."_

 _"I feel more comfortable calling you Q." Beverly said._

 _"At least Worf is calling me correctly," I said, briefly closing my eyes. "What is wrong with my arms?"_

 _"You took quite the beating," Beverly said. "I can't blame them for knowing what you did."_

 _"I created you, Crusher," I said. "You are the evidence of what I was making. . . originally."_

 _Beverly frowned._

 _"I highly doubt that." Beverly said._

 _"Why?" I asked. "Why do you doubt the truth?"_

 _"Because we have seen the original programming and been inside of it." Picard came into the room without Worf._

 _"Oh, he just told you that fast?" I said._

 _"This is a small ship, Q." Picard said._

 _I sighed._

 _"What program are you talking about?" I asked._

 _"The cruel one," Picard said. "The one you placed me in with my Medical Officer!"_

 _I closed my eyes._

 _"I am so sorry," I said. "But I am not the one responsible."_

 _"Yes, you are!" Picard said._

 _"I created you," I said. "You. . . and you. . . are the living testiments of my dreams."_

 _"To play with us in a cruel manner?" Picard said. "I do not believe you."_

 _"Then why am I on a ship when I should be in prison?" I asked._

 _Picard stopped, frowning at me._

 _"Because I have the heart to request you taking us back to our program like you have done with Worf." Picard said._

 _I lowered my head._

 _A peaceful program turned ravaged changing two of many programs for the worst. I felt shame. I looked up toward Picard, bitterly, then said what I never wanted to say in his face, "Tell me, Jean-Luc, did you tell anyone that I was dying?"_

 _"I never knew you were dying." Picard said._

 _I stared at him, in complete loss._

 _"You are not Picard . . ." I said. "You are not him." I lowered my voice. "Deactivate capture program. This isn't funny."_

The scenery around me faded. I realized then I had been dreaming as my eyes opened. They were around a dying campfire in the morning hours of the day. Hours had passed since I had been beaten up by the gang of vengeful but once innocent men. I noticed my arms were wrapped around by some kind of wood acting as a cast. They were talking in a low voice. I heard the mention of my name be thrown around.

My real name.

"I hate nightmares." I muttered.

"See?" Worf said. "I told you he talks about his ex-mate."

"How long have you been in my reality?" I asked.

"A year or so," Picard said. "But mostly a year."

"We were searching for you,Riker." Beverly said.

"Ryker, damn it," I said. "It is R-y-k-e-r."

Picard had a laugh.

"Named after your father?" Picard asked.

I shook my head.

"My uncle," I said. "How far are we from civilization?"

There was a pause.

"This planet . . ." Picard said. "This is a colony planet. We crash landed on here. A few months ago we heard you were here, on this planet, I was skeptically at first that you would be here."

"But I insisted it must be true on some level," Beverly said. "It sounded a lot like what would happen to you if you were a human in our reality."

"We did our research and there was little to nothing about your whereabouts." Picard said.

"Typical." I said.

Taken care of by the government regarding my sudden departure from Earth.

"There was a inmate transfer last week, and so we were assigned for that escort. . .Most of the crew did not make it." Beverly said.

"You have been stuck on this planet for a week and you haven't found a close by colony?" I said.

"We got lost . . . two days ago." Beverly said.

"You? Getting lost? I find that hard to believe." I said.

Picard glared at my direction as did Beverly.

"We did get lost." Picard said.

I found it eerily like a game I would play on the Enterprise crew. Stranded. No civilization. No technology. It seemed very Q'ish. I wasn't dreaming: that I knew without a doubt. I was silent contemplating the whole equation. It was so weird. Staring at my creations wondering what kind of game this is. I found myself thinking a lot like Picard when I randomly made myself known and transported him somewhere. I was contemplating this problem from the outsiders perspective. From the perspective of one of my most beloved programs.

The question was posed to me, earlier.

 _"When did you lose your faith in godly beings?"_

 _"Since the day I discovered God wasn't real."_

 _"Oh, the day when your little brother fell down a cliff by accident. You were over his body, weeping and praying. You had gone a few miles searching for help but you always came back for him. You wished there be a miracle. But you got no miracle. At the end of the day, at nightfall, when the search party found you and your brother. . . . Sam was dead. You grew bitter. You stopped attending Church. You lost your faith that day and your lack of faith has brought you here."_

 _"No, it has not!"_

 _"YES, IT HAS EVERY REASON FOR YOU TO BE HERE!"_

I sighed.

"Has it occurred to you this might be a game of some sorts?" I asked.

"It has," Picard said, with a slow nod. "I thought it was you pulling my leg."

"How long did that last?" I asked

"A week." Picard said.

I smirked.

"I believe . . . I know why we're all here," I said. "Q2."

"You made another Q program." Picard said, in disbelief.

I shook my head.

"On the contrary, no," I said. "There's a program claiming to be godly and all under the alias Hope Frederick."

Beverly's face went pale and Worf's face turned into shock.

"I met the human while I was being interrogated two days ago." Worf said.

"He was the second officer of the crashed ship. I saw him die." Beverly said.

Worf raised a eyebrow.

"Are we talking about the same man?" Worf asked.

I noticed the fire stopped moving, Beverly was about to speak but not a word was coming out, and Picard appeared to be interested.

"Cat gotcha tongue, Ryker?" Came the program.

I looked over fueled by rage.

"You . . . You orchestrated all of this!" I shouted. "Why?"

"To make you believe again," Q2 said. "And you do. Point made."

I sighed.

It was no use arguing with a fictional program.

"I am still in the program, am I?" I asked.

"NoooOOooO,"Q2 said,shaking his head. "You are _out_ of it."

I frowned.

"Then explain to me why time has meticulously frozen." I said.

"I have taken you between the seconds to my time and your time," Q2 said. "Listen to me, boy, this isn't a trick or game. There is a lesson in this. You have blamed the great He for it," He pointed up at the sky. "I am not saying I am angel or anything." He lowered his hand down. "You hold a great grudge. Time it should be . . . discarded. You should start coming to terms. You are dying, Ryker, dying is not a light subject in this world. You know that? I can make your current impediment go away. The whole arm scenario. Heal you to what you were prior with sickness and all. You arms are simply inoperable. You have lame arms, Frank."

"What do you mean? There's more to this?" I asked.

"You have been through acceptance, denial, and now it is forgiveness." Q2 said.

"Three step program. Classy." I said.

"Don't insult the program." Q2 said.

"Ah ha, so you admit to it!" I exclaimed.

"Okay, I will do some tweaking. To everyone your arms were not made lame and they are pretty operable, oh and they are not bound." Q2 held his hand up preparing to snap his fingers. "By the way . . . I wish you the best of luck."

Q2 vanished.

"Possibly. . ." Beverly said. "Ryker?"

I was halfway up rubbing around my metal fists.

"I believe it." I said.

They didn't act surprised to see me halfway up boundless.

* * *

 **. . .May 7th. . .5:29 PM. . .**

 **. . . 2070. . .**

Staying awake required a lot of my self will.

"Mr Worf." I said.

"Yes?" Worf said.

"Where were you when I was running?" I asked,

"I got lost." Worf said.

"You. . . got lost." I said.

"You and I went down separate paths. There was a fork in the road." Worf said.

"Then what did I hear. . ." It occurred to me that I must have been running from a racoon, squirrel, or monkey. "Oh . . never mind."

I started to feel dizzy so I grasped at the side of my head.

"Are you okay?" Worf said.

I take my hand off the side of my head.

"Just busy dying," I said, sarcastically. "Other than that. Just a little dizzy."

"You seem occupied pushing people away." Worf said.

"It comes with the shoes." I said, following after the two love birds.

"Nothing that concentric comes with the shoes." Worf said.

"Silver slippers. Proven fact." I said.

"That was Cinderella!" Worf said.

"Fantasy, myth, urban legend," I said. "Romantic story, when you think about it."

My vision was becoming a bur somewhat dizzy-like.

In the program I watched Picard and Beverly's relationship obviously indicate they were in love. They were best friends, for life, really. They were like the best couple you could have around while they pretended there was nothing going on between them. They just got along like two magnets brought together. Oh, well, that is the wrong comparison. They are a lot like Sherlock Holmes and James Watson . . . Oh dear, I just said that the two partners are gay. There is nothing I can compare Picard and Crusher to. I could hear a sharp screech in my ears. I am pretty good acting so I used my acting to pretend there wasn't anything wrong asides to appearing like hell.

In the dizzy perspective I had, I was able to see there a gorge ahead of us where behind it was a compound.

"Civilization!" Beverly shouted.

"Finally." Picard said, in relief.

"Are we going to jump over that gorge?" I asked.

"If you prefer to be in Worf's arms while we make it, yes." Picard said.

"I can jump quite far, thank you," I said. "And I don't need to be in someones arms! There's something wrong about me being held in the arms of another man! I find it quite disturbing."

I could hear the sound of rapid water surging below in the gorge.

Picard walked back then he leaped over the gorge.

"After you, sir Worf of Cottondale." I said.

Worf shot me a dirty look then he did the same thing Picard had done.

"Okay Doctor, you go first."

"No, you."

"Doctor, don't argue with me, you should go."

"You first."

"No,no,no, you go first."

"You are more important, you go."

"You first."

I sighed.

 _Stubborn woman_ , I thought, _no wonder Picard likes her_.

"Fine," I said. "I will."

I walked back then I leaped expecting to land on the other side of the gorge.

Instead, I grabbed into the rock in the gorge right below the cliffside.

"I am fine!" I shouted. "And I do not need help. Now,Doctor, your turn!"

I watched Beverly leap, and fall.

Damn the laws of gravity.

I reached my left servo out catching Beverly's hand in the unexpected fall.

"Okay, I admit," I said. "I _was_ supposed to go first."

I heard the sound of boots approaching.

"Ryker, get her up." Picard shouted.

"Working on that," I said. "Climb me, Doctor!"

"Q, you don't know how wrong that sounds." Beverly said.

"I am very well aware of that, now-" I started to say until I was cut off.

"Look there is the programmer!" Came the high pitched man.

I don't know what came over me but I somehow managed to toss Beverly to the top. I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I heard what sounded like a thud which made the ground tremble.

"Go!" I shouted. "I will be fine!"

 **B-Z-IL**

 **SHA-bram**

"Captain, we must go!" Worf shouted.

"I installed Worf with the programming to automatically apply on the computer. Simple head gear will be needed. I made that programming before we came across you two!"

"We're not leaving Q behind." Picard said.

Force of habit to call me Q, isn't it?

 **S-ha-iz**

"I SAID: _GO!_ " I shouted.

Then I could feel a burning sensation into my back. I then heard a scream. Wait, that was my scream! I let go of the rocky wall. My vision became blurry just then. I fell and fell and fell. The rocky path made by the crevices and the tree branches sticking out were blurred. All I could think was: _why, this was a terrible way to make an exit_. I heard my other alias being shouted by Picard. I crashed into the water back first probably injuring it. My mouth became full of water. My head became unsubmerged from the water abyss. I shouted back, "I am okay!" waving my arms. I saw only that the beat up crew were over the edge firing their new and improved phaser like guns at me. Their phaser fires missed my head as the water carried me down the deep stream. I heard the powerful sound of what sounded like crashing. I looked over as the phaser fire became distant. I saw the rising steam from the edge. There were embedded rocks in the stream including boulders.

I also registered burning in my back.

So they have just recently invented phaser fire.

How chipper.

I screamed falling over the edge of the water fall.

My last thought?

 _Please, don't let me die this way._

* * *

 **. . .May 8th. . .3:29 AM. . .**

 **. . . 2070. . .**

I seem to sleep a lot, lately. I awoke on the shore noticing it was a new day. I felt too tired to move. I could feel an ache about my back. It was difficult to lay there on my back facing the blue sky. Terraformed perfectly like Earth. I closed my eyes, thinking: _By this time the three must have gotten back to their program_. I had to hold onto that hope. I opened my eyes feeling a grumble in my stomach. I had not eaten dinner due to the fall into the gorge. I held my hands up to see they were intact: metal and all. I lowered them down then pushed myself up. I used my strength to push up onto my two feet. I turned around feeling the clothes soaked onto me. I was shivering. _Alone_. I stepped forward rubbing my shoulders with a aching back.

What else did I have to live for?

Nothing.

I could feel a pain in my knees.

I went past a flock walking into the forest.

I had to find civilization.

This is a colony planet.

I was cold.

Dropping wet.

Shackled to a mortal body unable to help myself. I didn't know how to hunt or help myself in the wild. I felt completely helpless. So . . . Mortal. . . Shivering hungry mortal who is slowly dying. Terrible way to die. I have embraced my mortality since the beginning of my life. _Sorry, Sarah, your ex-husband died on Mars after being abducted, beaten, and shot at . . . We found what was left of him. Sorry, Miss Ryker, your ex-husband died of starvation. Sorry, Miss Ryker, we had to scrub information about his whereabouts for so long and now he is dead, happy? Sorry, Miss Riker, your ex-husband is dead._ Every step was heavy for me. Every step was full of turmoil. Every step felt like I had concrete blocks wrapped around. The tired feeling lingered around. I had my head lowered going through the bushes.

I felt like all my dignity had been washed away.

All my man pride.

Everything I once had was gone.

What once made me so bright was gone.

I felt so empty and dead.

Death in the soul was not a present idea to enjoy.

When the soul dies when hope is all lost is a day that will be mourned by the heavens. My mother once said that when we were in the middle of a great depression in the US that sweeped over the countries leaving people behind like unwanted dust. Technology has advanced. Coding has benefited our society for the better. We have slowly began to develop a kind of new transport called 'warp' in spaceships. I heard they were called starships, as typical, but the whole idea of encountering aliens was kind of far fetched. We were alone in the universe, truly, that's what a majority of people believe.

We have yet to see a alien hailing from our universe appearing in reality.

Worf is an exception because he is fictional.

Now only if Vulcans were real, that would be a treat.

I fell down to my knees that burned.

I closed my eyes in pain.

I was alive but there wasn't . . any hope of making it to the hospice alive.

 **I lost hope.**

Losing hope makes the world a little more darker and lonely. It makes it seem there is one person against the world, and that is the person who has lost hope. I didn't see the point in going on. Laid on the dirt contemplating rather or not I wanted to die and decompose here without anyone finding me for years was sad. So very sad. I turned over staring at the sky. For once I didn't give a shit about life. I just wanted to die.

Could my misery end here?

My eyes were burning tears.

I needed someone to tell me that I shouldn't give up my fight here.

The fight to get back toward the hospice.

I could be days and days away from the prison.

Hell, even Picard and Beverly got LOST in this hell hole.

I waited and waited and waited and waited for death to claim me.

But he never did.

It must been two hours when I decided to get up.

Civilization.

I must find it.

So I can just fall and die.

Die and let it be known that I died somewhere.

I know that bones decompose to dust inside a coffin but a marked grave gives me comfort that I will never be forgotten. I found myself regain hope because of that. I had a coughing fit. This time blood came out. I used a leaf to cleanse my servos at the best way I could. Sometimes I wondered why people would even care what happened to me. Why would Worf give two cents about me? My throat was hurting. It was like squeezing itself by the inside. My lungs were tired of firing the bacteria or whatever it was into the bronchus tubes. I came to a nearby spring then washed my face, my hands, and whatever part of me that had gotten dirty. I unzipped the jacket then took it off and looked down toward my contrasting orange shirt to see if there any phaser holes. My gray jacket had a hole in it.

I felt along my back expecting to feel pain.

No hole in the fabric.

I frowned then held up my jacket once again to see a hole in the backside being rounded and circular.

"That is just plain weird." I acknowledged.

The shoulder part of the jacket had been ripped.

Nope.

No use wearing it now.

I saw a fish swimming in the little spring.

"Sorry, pal," I said. "You are my breakfast."

I put the jacket down then grabbed a stick and stabbed it into the fish.

I held the fish up with a grin.

"Bon appetit." I said.

I later used the jacket to preserve the dead fish while collecting twigs and sticks including stones. I used three pieces of stick to cook the fish and a lot of twigs to burn off. I now knew how lonely a _Enterprise_ crew member would feel separated from their most closets friends in the middle of no where even in a place ripped out of Jurassic Park without the dinosaurs and has a lot of trees clustered together. I folded the jacket, buried it in a hole, then marked the place by organizing rocks into the shape of the letter Q.

I patted on the soil.

Time to go.

I got up then resumed my walk into the beautiful forest that wasn't creepy. I saw two foxes chasing after one another. It made me chuckle. It also amused me that they were not paying attention to me. It was like I had not matter to them. Then again I didn't really matter to people. Yes, of course, I don't matter. I used to matter to people but since I turned myself in that matter faded away. I am like someone who used to have five minutes of fame.

I felt tempted to sleep on my walk.

But I shouldn't.

My vision was getting dizzy.

I leaned against a tree bark then closed my eyes.

My back felt better.

It is probably 9:32 AM, give it or take.

"Come on, Ryker." I said.

I take my hand off the wooden bark.

Being alone is a thing that has become casual. My pace was slow and full of dread. I had a bad cough. What was I trying to cough out? My lungs? My heart? I came to a pause near a boulder then I sat down feeling a bad feeling in my chest. It made me feel puzzled. I cough and coughed until I felt like I could puke (Which I really do not like) and feel unwell. When I stopped coughing I saw there were blood splatter on the boulder. I had a rough sigh. I had to find a place. I had to find a place. I approached what seemed like a degraded starship that had been overgrown by vines and plants. Seemingly appearing as though it had crash landed years ago. I saw the bottom was open leading into the ship.

I wonder if I am not alone.

"Hello?" I called out.

I heard my voice echo back. _Oh great_ , I thought, _I am very alone_. I walked forward into the ship through the platform. My socks were wet and very uncomfortable walking on metal that felt very cold. I stood before the dark underbelly of pure terror. Why do I say that? The light didn't outline anything for that matter. Fear is both the man's best tool and worst enemy. It stirred fear inside of me. Terrified to take a step further. I gulped contemplating what I wanted to do. Walk in gray socks or be chewed out by your own fear? I can make it work with these old socks.

I heard the sound of feet trample on a cat walk.

Catwalk has a distinctive sound.

"Hello!" I shouted, going after the source. "Don't be afraid! I pose no harm!"

I tripped over a wire then got back on my two feet.

The inside of the starship was dark. Very dark. I had no idea where I was but mostly likely in the cargo exiting section, probably, maybe the shuttle bay or transport machinery bay. I couldn't be sure. I turned around only to shield my eyes from the blinding light. I turned away from the light. It felt like I had closed my eyes when really they were still open and I wasn't asleep. I was wide awake. I stepped forward feeling a electrical cackle go off beneath my socks. My entire body jolted from the electricity exiting. Oh great, there is a hole in my sock. I felt beneath my feet to encounter a hole. Uh huh, I knew it! I grunted taking off the two pairs of socks then tuck them into my pant pocket.

I held my hands out going in the direction of hopefully the wall walking forward.

It must have been a given minute or three searching.

I felt the wall afterwards.

I feel about the wall feeling around for a switch. I felt a button. _Please do not let it be a torture chamber or spell my doom right here and now_ , I hoped. I pressed the button. The whole room lightened up to show a messy transport bay with wires dangling into the shape of a net. I saw there was upside down vehicles with skeletons underneath. Poor worker didn't know they died. I shook my head then observed around for a stairway. I saw one in fact across from me where my path is blocked by a new kind of Jeep Wrangler. A Jeep Wrangler is very distinctive because it lacks doors and has the outlined shape of the roof by the bars that support one another.

I only know it is a Jeep Wrangler because Sarah always drove one.

 **Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.**

I noticed there a running hunched and small figure down the railed cat walk.

"Hey!" I shouted.

I ran up the stairs.

"Don't be afraid of me!" I shouted.

I ran up the stairs joining onto the cat walk.

I ran down into a barely lit hallway.

 **Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat.**

"Wait!" I shouted.

I stopped noticing my vision was becoming blurry. There was darkness blanketing my vision. Come on, Ryker, I told myself, find the running figure! I stepped forward. I fell down to my knees. I could die any day now. Any day. Why this? Why pull me through this kind of mess? I never wanted to be pulled into this kind of adventure on my dying days. My back gave out landing me to the ground. I had been up for too long. I had been. That must be it. I didn't have people around to pretend that I wasn't ill. No one to prove wrong that my illness was not in charge of me. Being some-one who appeared godly to those in another way can be difficult to shake off. Difficulty to go down their level. I wanted to appear fine in the mist of my hell. My personal hell. I am the most screwed up man in the milky way. I didn't want them to pity me. I didn't want to leave them regrets with what they could have done to save my life.

My doctor told me a few weeks ago:

 _"You can die any day now." The Doctor said._

 _I sighed._

 _"Good to hear." I said._

 _"I suggest you make amends, Mr Riker." The Doctor said._

 _"Mr Ryker," I corrected him. "I already made my amends."_

 _The Doctor raised his brow._

 _"Oh really?" The Doctor asked._

 _"Yes, really," I said. "I am ready for death to come in and take me."_

 _"I thought you were the kind of man who had a lot to amend for." The Doctor said._

 _I shot a glare at the Doctor._

 _"That . . . That was meant for peace," I said. "Not my fault people suffered because of it. It is the government who has to make those amends."_

 _"You made it. You are responsible." The Doctor said, lowering the clipboard to his side._

 _"It was never meant to become a interrogation and torture machine," I said. "I can't believe you are hanging that above_ my head! _I am not the next Edward Snowden of the programmer era! I am not!"_

 _The Doctor frowned._

 _"I heard rumors say otherwise." The Doctor said._

 _"I am not that man," I said. "I am not that sadistic."_

 _"Maybe you are." The Doctor said._

I awoke face up toward a light.

Am I dead?

No, I am not dead.

One; I knew I wasn't dead because I could feel that tough feeling in my chest. The urge to cough. I remembered then again I was in my personal hell. I pushed myself forward feeling a pain in the back of my head. I was working, actively, body wise. My back had started to ache again. I really sleep a lot due to dying. My body is actively trying to stay alive. Me? On the other hand, I am just eager to die in a comfortable place where I will be found and buried properly. I don't care how it is done I just want my death to be on the record and be known. I got halfway up then looked over to see a little boy sitting in a chair curled up staring at my direction with eyes wide.

"Hi," I said. "You speak English?"

The boy nodded.

"My name is Ryan Ryker," I said. "R-y-k-e-r. Not Riker being R-i-k-e-r-."

"I am Billy Thompson," Billy said. "You are . . . You are . . . You are that programmer who was lost."

I smiled.

"I never was lost," I lied. "How long have you been here?"

"Last time I checked it was 2069. . . My parents and I were . ." Billy closed his eyes. "Coming to visit my aunt."

I got off the bed.

"So this is a transport vessel?" I asked.

Billy nodded.

"It crashed. There was a fight. Mommy told me to hide in the closet," He pointed over to the locker that was halfway out of another room with a open door. "I did."

I looked back toward Billy.

"And your parents?" I asked.

"Dead. I buried them," Billy said. "I couldn't bury the rest. . . I thought this was a colony planet, there's supposed to be houses here!"

The boy was crying in tears so I brought him into a hug and pat him on the back.

"I am so sorry," I said. "It is okay now."

Perhaps the compound has people who can help Billy.

I have to get there.

* * *

 **. . .May 8th. . .3:29 PM. . .**

 **. . . 2070. . .**

"Okay, where is the changing room?" I asked, holding a pair of folded clothes and new boots on top.

"Uh, I don't know." Bill said.

"You have been here for a year and you have no idea where I can change?" I asked.

"There's the captain's cabin." Billy said.

"Be my guide, Billy." I said.

"Yes sir!" Billy said, saluting and smacking his forehead by accident.

"You are going to get a concussion one of these days smacking your head like that." I said.

"Yes, sir!" Billy said, saluting me,again then he went on his way down the hall.

I followed after Billy.

"Billy, can you stop calling me sir?" I asked. "Call me Ryker."

"All right, Mr Riker!" Billy shouted back.

"MR RYKER!" I shouted.

"My bad!" Billy apologized.

"Why does everyone get my last name wrong?" I said, annoyed.

"The 'y' is silent," Billy said. "It sounds like there is an 'i' instead."

Billy continued to guide me down the hall.

Eventually he brought me to the captain's cabin which is technically one large room resembling a flat on Earth. I walked in. The door closed behind me making me turn around expecting to see a intruder. Oh, it is just me and my recently turned on fear. I took a sigh turning around then put the folded clothes on the couch. I undress then out my old dirty clothes into a pile. I chose a uniform that had a orange shirt underneath to denote my insignificance. It wasn't a captain's uniform. It wasn't anything important. It was a spare inmate uniform. The uniform was a dark gray. I felt along my neck knowing there is a bar code on it. I was wide awake then they stamped on my neck. The ink was stuck there forever and ever so much it must have been embedded into my neck bone.

After getting on new boxers, I went to the socks then the pants and the shirt.

I zipped up the dark jacket but kept it zipped down below the neck letting the collar stick out.

I put on a pair of boots.

I stepped out of the room.

"How do I look?" I asked.

Billy looked at me.

"You look like a programmer on The United Planet of Freedom starship." Billy said.

"I don't have a pip," I said. "I look like a inmate."

"Nah uh," Billy said. "You look like a programmer. I met one before while my dad was serving and my mother was serving too. They are funny guys."

"How old are you?" I asked, curiously.

"I was nine when we crashed, so I gotta be ten." Billy said.

I raised a brow.

"You didn't notice the season changing?" I asked.

"It never changes on this planet." Billy said.

It then hit me.

"Right. . .This is Mars we are on." I said.

"Exactly," Billy said. "My mother was a astrologist."

I smiled.

"And your father?" I asked.

"He was a . . . I don't really know. Father never told me." Billy said, at a loss.

"Let's go search for a boat." I said, walking past Billy.

"Why do we need a boat?" Billy asked.

"We are right below civilization and we do need mountain climbing protection equipment," I said. "I fell from a cliff, survived being shot at, and falling from a waterfall . . . I say we test my luck and try to stretch it out a little further for you!"

"Man, is that true?" Billy said, catching up with me.

"All of it!" I said, with a grin.

"Where have you been for the past few years?" Billy asked.

My grin faded.

"Earth and Mars," I said. "I made something without a patent."

"What's a patent?" Billy asked.

"A government authority or license conferring a right or title for a set period, especially the sole right to exclude others from making, using, or selling an invention," I said. "There was a law made if anyone invented anything it must be patented. No ifs or buts about it. If one has to have made a invention at the work force with tangible proof and kept it from the government's knowledge there can be a lot of jail time. You see, there is even a law against child geniuses! Because they make new inventions! They are taken and hidden away by a underground railroad."

"How do you know about that?"

"When I was a boy, I had a little sister who was a genius and she invented something very serious."

"And what was that?"

"She invented the smart car that has no steering wheel."

"Oh that? I can't believe that."

"My mother made some calls and had my sister be taken to safety . . . before the cops came. My mother told me and my brother the truth after lying to me that she went to my aunts." I lowered my voice. "Me and my brother were heartbroken. We never saw Alice again. Alice was ten years old. Just ten. She would be . . thirty-two."

"Aww."

I sighed.

"What about you?"

"Me?"

"Yes, Billy, you."

"I am a single child."

"Any friends?"

"My friends probably think I am having fun on Mars or that I am never ever coming back."

"Your friends have hope. I believe they have been praying for you."

"My friends don't believe in god. They just believe in luck."

"Ah, I see."

"Yeah, ever since that . . . building collapse in New Jersey and killed our uncles . . . We grew angry and we haven't forgiven the one responsible for their deaths."

"Who was it?"

"The building manager."

"I thought you were going to say God."

"God has nothing to do with it. Improper building inspections has everything to do with it."

"Has it not occurred to you that he is racked with guilt as well?"

"Not like I am ever going to meet him again."

"That is not true."

"Why?"

"Because the galaxy is a small place. It is a small world out there."

* * *

 **. . .May 8th. . .6:30 PM. . .**

 **. . . 2070. . .**

"Mr Ryker," Billy said, right below me on the mountain wall. "I am scared."

I looked down with a smile.

"Don't be," I said. "If you get scared . . . Say you are not afraid."

"But I am afraid." Billy said.

"It cheatens fear of the fun it plays on you,Billy," I said, climbing up and up **.** "Take courage when its Christmas day."

"But it is not Christmas." Billy said.

I sighed.

"Kids these days," I muttered to myself. "Don't seem to notice the nonsense coming out of adult's mouths."

I climbed up and up. Billy was close behind me. We had eaten dinner before making our way to the place where the waterfall had dropped me off. We had to climb the left hand side of the cliff side that lead up. I was up nearly all day, where a few of the hours I had been out in the realm of sleep. I could feel a ache in my head. I rubbed the side of my temple then resumed climbing. I could feel my heart beat slowing down. Feeling in my legs were starting to become numb. _No!_ , I thought, _not now!_ I couldn't go now! I had to help Billy to civilization! I HAD TO GET BILLY TO SAFETY WITH PEOPLE.

My hearing was going.

"Mr Ryker, why don't we try again tomorrow?" Billy asked.

"There is no tomorrow if we stop today," I said. "We . . . cannot. . . stop . . . now!"

I stretched my left arm out then dug into the rock making separate holes.

Then there wasn't a sound.

I couldn't hear.

I couldn't see.

I was so cold.

My vision cleared up to show me out of my body with Billy below me.

"Mr Ryker?" Billy shouted. "Mr Ryker! Talk to me!" He was afraid. I could see that. He was so scared. "Mr Ryker, are you all right!"

I could see that my eyes were still open and my servos were dug into the ground.

 _Billy. . ._

 _I must go back._

I looked over to see the bright white door in the sky.

"Screw you!" I shouted, holding up my middle finger.

I slid back into my body where my motor functions returned. This time I went on climbing and climbing with a determined hum. Billy noticed I had started moving again.

"Mr Ryker!" Billy said. "I thought you fell asleep again!"

"Nothing will stop me, young padawan." I said.

Billy laughed, following my lead.

"Cool, are you into Star Wars?" Billy asked.

"Not really," I said. "Just a avid viewer."

Truth to say if he wasn't there then I would have gone through that door.

"Do you have a kid?" Billy asked.

"I had a kid until my ex-wife took him when she left me." I said.

"What was his name?" Billy asked.

"Ryan Ryker the third," I said. "I am the second."

"So you got a junior on your hands!" Billy said.

"If his grand uncle is still alive, then there will be a laugh to have," I said. "One day he will meet the coolest Uncle ever."

"I have a lame Uncle," Billy said. "He is a Horse Trainer."

"Are you kidding?" I asked. "That _is_ cool."

"Horse Trainer isn't cool as it is made up to be." Billy said.

"Breaking a horse takes a lot of gut and courage," I said. "Some people like me are afraid to approach horses because they can trample people to death."

"People trample people to death." Billy said.

I sighed resuming my climb.

It took us a good hour to get up there. I helped Billy up to the top. The fleet of trees blocked our view of the compound. We took off our mountain climbing protection gear. I took Billy's hand then went into the forest holding a energized lantern. Billy was trembling, and I could hear him mutter "I am not afraid of the dark." We were in the threshold of darkness where the light coming from the stars did little to nothing to help in our mission. Billy had a knapsack of supplies and his belongings that he cared about dearly. He had his teddy bear in one arm. I was trembling as well. A fully grown man trembling in fear. Sweat was coming down my skin.

"I am not afraid," I muttered. "I am not afraid."

 **Crack. Crra-craack. . . Craaack!**

"Run!" Billy shouted. "It is the night monster!"

"NIGHT MONSTER!" I shouted, followed by a scream.

 **CRACK. CRAWCK-CRAACK. CRAAACK**

We speeded into the forest where we came across cave and hid into it. Billy and I hid there. We waited to see any signs of the night monster. My parents told me stories of a creature called the night monster that had werewolf like qualities, powerful claws, large palms, horned head, furry body, lacked a tail, and was ferocious. It chased a victim until the victim could not run any further. He would not venture into a cave as he is afraid of it. He would rest in a large hole inside the ground curled up when he was at rest. I could tell Billy missed his family. His dead family. He was crying. Tears rolling down his cheek.

"Do you miss your kid?" Billy asked.

"Some times," I said. "He was only a baby when Sarah left me. We had a lot of arguments." I lowered my voice. "My social life went down the hill after I became a programmer."

Billy sniffled.

"Suppose I am the lucky one here," Billy said. "I had my dad for so long . . . My parents made it work with their occupations. My parents had each other and. . . I don't have them anymore."

I put a servo on Billy's shoulder.

"You are a lucky kid," I said. "I think your parents are still watching over you," I took my hand off. "They never stopped loving you."

I then recalled seeing those two flying orbs alongside Billy when I was out of my body.

I was right.

They were still around.

Tears grew on the edges of his eyes.

"I always felt they were still around." Billy said, in a low voice.

"You are a brave kid," I said. "Staying alive in the dark without anyone for a year? That takes great courage. I believe they are proud of you."

Billy looked up toward my direction.

"Did you ever lose someone?" Billy asked.

"I did," I said. "And it changed my life forever."

Billy leaned his head against my shoulder.

"Can you tell me a bed time story?" Billy asked, with a yawn.

It was dark out there.

"Why yes," I said. "Once upon a time in land far, far away there was a great king named Iskaba. Iskaba was the ruler of a magnficient floating kingdom in the sky, he believe he could do anything he wanted wavering the lives of anyone he came across or ruled for that matter. One day. , . Just one day . . . He saw the error in his ways. He met a man named James Worf of Cottondale." I grinned. "You see this is not a normal heterosexual story this is a homosexual story. Ask your uncle what Homosexual means. I just wanted to make a defiant change in story telling, anyway!" I snapped my fingers. "He was perhaps the most attractive man who was aloof and quirky. Very aloof, though, because of what the king did to everyone he cared about. One night Iskaba requested James to his castle for a month. If the king did not like him, he would send him back or kill him the rightful way he was meant to. You see James escaped death one time. Iskaba knew everything about this man due to the cameras placed everywhere." I had a sigh then wondered how to continue the story. I smiled, getting the idea into my head. "This is not a inferior class era I am talking about this is a well advanced steam punk era! Kinda like the era of Asgard in the _Thor_ movie franchise." I lowered my hands. "Day by day Iskaba got annoyed,irritated, and frustrated with him! Iskaba got very irritated with the man. James, on the other hand, one day brought Iskaba to see why he was very distant. The horrors that Iskaba was inflicting on the people below. It made Iskaba realize his mistake. He was guilt ridden. From there they started to see eye to eye. Iskaba found himself caring for James. He wanted to redeem himself in the eyes of James. James could see the kings rule was changing over the kingdom. The word had traveled fast. He understood why Iskaba had changed his tune. That made James smile knowing he was impacting the king in a positive light. A few days later Iskaba's sister lied to him saying that she and James were having a affair, also that James admitted to being a spy from another kingdom. So Iskaba sent James to a snow drifted mountain along with his sister instead of sparing her."

"But you just said this is a homosexual story," Billy said. "Not a heterosexual story."

I looked over toward Billy raising a eyebrow.

"You should be asleep by now." I said.

"I don't see any love elements in the story." Billy said.

I lowered my eyebrow.

"Oh dear," I said. "You want me to go all out?"

"Yes, by bringing in the love elements." Billy said.

"It is not much of a love story." I said.

"Just give it a shot and see where it goes," Billy encouraged me. "I wanna know what happens to James."

"Do you know what homosexual means?" I asked.

"Yes," Billy said. "My uncle is married to another man."

I had a short laugh.

"Back to the story," I said. "So Iskaba's sister told James what she did. She wanted her brother to be convinced that he had sent away a spy and the worst person he could chose for a spouse. She wanted him to chose a woman instead and return to his old ways!" Billy gulped. "So James made it his mission to get back straight to the kingdom of the sky with Iskaba's sister." I yawned. "James and Iskaba's sister returned two weeks later under false pretenses. James tricked Iskaba's sister to repeat what she had said in the beginning with a recording device that aired everywhere. Iskaba's sister was jailed. Iskaba started to apologize for all that he had said about James earlier in private, and then. . ." I had a short laugh. "James kissed him. Iskaba reciprocated. James said, 'I know' after breaking the kiss and 'I forgive you'. And they lived happily ever after."

Billy closed his eyes.

"The end." I said, looking down toward Billy with a little smile.

I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

* * *

I hadn't told Billy that I was dying.

Should I feel guilty about not telling the truth?

 _I could feel water all around me. Which was strange, I wasn't in water._ _My eyes opened to see several shades of blue and a moving figure behind it. I could feel like I was freely floating as though I were inside a bubble curled up in fetal position. I narrowed my eyes toward the figure who had on something black and red. It had a distinctive design different from the modern day uniforms in my reality. Where have I seen that color arrangement before?_

 _And then I fell._

 _I landed flat on the floor naked._

 _"Q?" Came Riker's voice._

 _I looked up._

 _"Riker?" I said, surprised._

 _"Why are you here?" Riker said._

 _"Why . . . are you here?" I asked._

 _"The Enterprise was attacked by squid humanoid beings and half of the crew was taken into the squid ship. Data, me, Worf, Geordi, and Wesley were left. We just got Doctor Crusher back." Riker said._

 _I got up dripping wet._

 _"Am I naked?" I asked._

 _Riker appeared to be baffled._

 _"Of course you are!" Riker said._

 _"My name is not Q. My name is Ryan," I said, feeling slightly dizzy. "This isn't right."_

 _I tilted forward toward the floor._

 _Riker caught me._

 _"Hold on there," Riker said. Disturbing being caught by a man. Troublesome, really. "Q, you are going to need some clothes."_

 _I saw there being more pods with people._

 _Across from me was Picard curled up into fetal position with his eyes closed._

 _"Jean-Luc!" I shouted, stepping forward._

 _"Q, there is nothing we can do for him," Riker said. "He is in too deep!"_

 _I glared right through the man._

 _"Mr Riker," I said. "It is_ _ **never too late**_ _to save someone's ass. This is our captain. I will risk my life in exchange for his life if you don't have the courage! I may not be a Q. I may be a human. But I rather spend my life doing what I should have done when I could LIKE YOU! I don't want regrets in my life WHEN I DIE!"_

 _I yanked my hand in._

 _Picard was so far away when he appeared so close._

 _"Q, there is no use," Riker said. "It is not going to work. I tried!"_

 _"Let's be frank with each other," I said. "You are not going, but. . . " I looked over toward Riker with a little smile. "I will go the distance!"_

 _I turned my head away then forced myself in hearing the shout of Riker calling my other alias._

 _I went in so further that I managed to get close to Picard._

 _White tendrils with gray outlines were around him._

 _"Wakey-wakey, mon capitaine." I said, grabbing Picard by the shoulders._

 _I tossed Picard out of the wall of fluid instead letting it absorb around me._

 _Riker caught Picard, who was unconscious by the way, then tapped his combadge staring at my direction. If I had a hat at the time being I would have tilted it down with a respective nod toward the man. But I didn't have a hat. Riker and Picard vanished. In their place appeared Wesley and Data. They became blurry figures where I entered a world of squid creatures hovering with tentacles all around them that was beautiful because these tentacles made amazing decoration._

 _"This is just a dream," I said, with a laugh. "It's just a dream!"_

* * *

 **. . .May 9th. . .6:35 AM. . .**

 **. . . 2070. . .**

I bolted awake panting.

"Just a dream." I said.

Was it a nightmare?

Or a good dream?

I couldn't be sure.

"Mommy. . ." Billy said, in his sleep.

I shook Billy awake.

"I don't want to go to school!" Billy said.

I burst out loud laughing at Billy.

"What?" Billy asked, half awake and half asleep.

"The night monster is gone." I said, in between the laughter.

"Oh good." Billy said, then he fell back asleep.

I stopped laughing by calming myself down.

I smiled, then carefully got up and picked the boy up into my arms. Billy still held his teddy bear tightly in his hands. It was like the grip that could not be broken even after death. I didn't want to attempt that, really, to pry it out of his strong hands. I walked out of the cave then looked around. I walked alongside the mountain side with each lagging step I could feel my slow heart beat. I then came to a passage way where there was boulders,skeletal remains of animal, and pebbles. I saw the wide vast school-like gray doorway at the end of the pathway leading to the compound. _Civilization_. My eyes glowed to life. I looked both ways.

 _Come on, Ryker,_ I thought.

I stepped forward.

My pace was slower as there were weakness in my legs.

I had to keep going.

Keep on going. Keep on going. Keep on going.

As Dory said, "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming."

I could hear ticking below my feet.

Uh oh.

Landmines.

RUN!

With all the energy I had I forced my legs forward running toward the doorway. Explosion after explosion went off after me. I could hear the aroma of explosive smoke from behind me. I could hear the loud kaboom behind me. Now this is a strange kind of welcoming. Was this the same compound the programs were heading toward some time ago in hopes of getting home? They are programs. They were not physical so they couldn't set off a landmine. I came to the door panting then used my boot to knock on the side. I had to do that. There could be some people who are willing to take this boy in. The middle square part opened. A pair of blue eyes appeared.

"Who is there?" Came the gruff voice.

"Inmate 2294803-B-4829-C-T8Q," I said. "I am the programmer with Billy Thompson. Billy is the sole survivor of a starship crash."

The man's eyes widened.

"You. . . You should be dead." The man with a gruff voice said.

I sighed.

"But I am not," I said. "Please. . .Let me in." The pair of blue eyes look down. "I promise I don't intend to do any harm. All I want right now is for this boy to be safe."

"Q, don't come in!" I heard a shout.

A familiar shout.

A woman's shout.

Where have I heard that shout before?

"Who was that?" I asked.

"My wife," The man with a gruff voice said. "You may come in . . . but without the boy in your arms. I will take in the boy. You come in with your arms up in the air."

I raised a brow, suspiciously.

"Are you from the law enforcement?" I asked. "Because if so . . . The escape wasn't planned. In fact I want to go back to hospice."

"Hand the kid to me." The man with a gruff voice said, opening the door wide enough for a child to be exchanged.

I found that odd I couldn't see the inside of the compound, second that I couldn't see him in general, and that he wanted the child first.

"All right." I said.

I handed Billy in where he vanished into the darkness. Then the door closed on me unexpectedly. I raised my eyebrows confused and then lowered them. Perhaps it is a surprise! That has to be the answer to it. I calmed my nerves. I then had a coughing urge. Then I was forced to cough. I came down to one knee with one hand on the door and my eyes closed. I took my metal servo away coughing down towards the ground. I stopped feeling uneasy in my chest. I struggled to stand up feeling off balanced. It took me three minutes to stand upright. It then occurred to me that perhaps there is a ambush behind the doors waiting for me to come on in not expecting the imminent danger.

Well, this time I did expect this ambush.

The little square door opened.

"Hands up in the air." Came the gruff voice.

I frowned.

"I am really too weak to do that," I said. "I am no threat."

"Your funeral." The gruff voice said.

It was difficult to sigh.

The little door closed.

Before we left the starship I used a improvised bar reader then scanned the back of my neck. I then destroyed afterwards while Billy was outside at the shore waiting in the boat. I had lied to him saying that I forgot to get a important object, and that I jokingly told him "My dignity." which wasn't necassarily the truth. I then lied again saying I was going to leave a note for whoever comes by. Scanning a bar code can alert the authorities if the scanning connection is up. This way they can pinpoint the inmate through the IP they were last scanned. I stepped forward almost inches away from the metal. It suddenly became obvious my legs were ready to give out. I just used my last energy to step forward. How could I have depleted my energy that fast? Maybe all that running could have a hand in that.

My eyes were slowly drifting.

Then the door opened.

And I collapsed flat on the floor.

* * *

 **. . .May 9th. . .9:48 AM. . .**

 **. . . 2070. . .**

"It is not fun when he is asleep." The high pitched man said.

"Sleeping through a entire beat up is not the idealist way of getting payback." The bearded man's voice came to.

I groaned feeling pain in my back.

My eyes were slowly adjusting to the bright light aimed at my face. I realized my hands were behind my back, my legs were bound, I could feel there being cuts everywhere on my face, and my back was arched forward with my head lowered down toward my lap. I raised my head up blinking my eyes. I could see there being figures staring at me where there are outlines of several individuals.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself, programmer?"

I sighed.

"It wasn't my fault." I said.

I have long realized I will proclaim that to my grave.

I should have that engraved on my grave.

If I ever do have a grave.

"You asshole!" The man with a gruff voice shouted.

I was punched at the face which sent me crashing over in the chair.

"Nice punch," I said. "Over dramatic much?"

The man with a gruff voice stepped forward but the high pitched man stopped him.

"There's something not right about the programmer," The high pitched man said. "We will beat him to a pulp once he is wide awake."

"I am wide awake, idiots." I said.

The bearded man kicked me in the stomach causing me to yelp in pain and close my eyes.

"Don't call us idiots,programmer." The bearded man said.

"Let's go and come back with more tools to inflict the horrors he inflicted on us." The high pitched man said.

Ah, so he is the leader of the group by the sounds of it.

I exhaled, sharply.

The group left through a door and then the door closed.

I felt sad, just very sad.

My program twisted and so . . . shattered . . misused. . . improper conduct used with it.

My precious.

Practically my baby.

I guess a programmer isn't as bright as it is made out to be.

"I am a idiot," I said. "Misused . . . And come to think that I made it because I was _bored_."

My boredom ruined lives.

"I hate myself." I said,struggling to sigh.

I closed my eyes then reopened them.

A holographic blue figure appeared getting the basic outline to appear. I saw colors spread through out the figure who were standing across from me. Who was it going to be this time? Data? I wouldn't want to speak with Data right now in this sorry ass state. However there wasn't the outline of hair. It occurred to me that my brainwaves might still be pulling some of my programs out of the Program Q. It had to be the logical solution, really. Then the projection ended revealing Picard in the modern day uniform from my reality. A frown appeared on Picard's face followed by a facial expression change.

It was the one of shock.

"Ryker?" Pocard asked.

It was a pain to sigh.

"About time someone said my last name right." I said, my voice sounded weak.

Picard sizzled stepping forward.

"Where are you?" Picard asked.

"In the compound," I said, finding it difficult to breath. "I see. . . that the program worked."

"Beverly was just sent back to the Enterprise hours ago." Picard asked.

"What. . . happened?" I asked.

"We found our way to the compound, got in, and went to the computer,and uploaded uploaded ourselves in. Apparently it took longer for Beverly." Picard said.

I cracked a smile.

"You got. . . it. . . easy." I said.

"Ryker, what is wrong with you?" Picard said, in concern.

"I am dying, been recently beaten, punched at the face and kicked in the stomach. Just about cheery as I can get." I said.

Picard sizzled as he pulled the chair back up.

"Ryker, I thought you were dead." Picard said.

"Not the only one,apparently," I said. "Is everyone in the program?"

"Riker is missing." Picard said.

"Oh dear," I said. "He's not among the group. . . Picard. . . What's the corrupt program like?"

Picard frowned.

"That. . . is personal." Picard said.

"Did you tell anyone else that I was dying?" I asked.

"No." Picard said.

I briefly closed my eyes then reopened them.

"Tell me, is the pain like it is going through your body, electrical pain searing burns all over your body, floating blue fog going where ever?" I asked. "Torture machines all over. Waterboarding in progress. Spikes being used upon the innocents. People plunged into darkness. Burning at the stake in the most cruel manner yet? Body being stretched out-"

"Q, stop it!" Picard demanded.

"Is that what the program became before you were returned to the original?" I asked.

Picard paused.

". . . Yes." Picard said.

I lowered my head with tears in my eyes.

"I wish I never bragged about it. I wish I never created the program!" I said. "It has ruined everyone's lives!"

"The Borg were among them." Picard said.

I was frozen.

"The Borg?" I asked,lifting my head back up.

"Yes, the Borg. . ." Picard said. "I was plunged back to Locutus."

I was trembling.

"If I can. . . I will delete the original program in the deep web along with Riker once he has returned and you," I said. "Well. . . that never is going to happen. I am going to die here. I wonder what form of torture they are going to inflict on me. . ."

Picard put both hands on my shoulders as he sizzled before my eyes.

"You are not going to die on me,Q," Picard said. "Not today or any day, not like this."

Picard sizzled.

"You have. . . little choice. . . You are glitching," I said, as Picard tried to unravel my binds using his hands. "Jean-Luc," It was difficult to speak with the program. "I really appreciate the thought but you don't have to do this."

"The hell I do," Picard said, then he moved onto my servos. "You can end my program. You can prevent us from being used _again_."

"Jean. . . Luc. . ." I said. "Listen: I am okay." I had my voice lowered. "I am supposed to pay for what I made. . . I accept my fate . . . and I believe you also have that program Worf had."

"No, I do not." Picard said.

"In order to be uploaded. . . . You had to have been given the program," I said. "Picard," I caught his hand. "There is a little boy in here and if you want to help then make sure the authorities get here and this boy doesn't get killed by these men. The same men you stopped from beating me up further. His name is Billy Thompson."

"Q. . . Don't talk that way." Picard said.

I let go of Picard's hand.

"I can talk all the way I want," I said,watching Picard sizzle once more. "I am dying and you are sizzling. It seems we are very connected. So that means there isn't a possibility you will stick around. You will be returned to your arti-" I coughed. "Artificially programmed reality."

"I refuse to accept that." Picard said.

I smiled.

"Jean-Luc. . ." I said.

"Yes?" Picard asked.

I coughed, again.

"You were . . ." I started. "The best friend . . . I ever had."

I heard the door start to open.

"Go," I said, weakly. "And stay out of their way."

Picard was a loss staring at me in shock.

I like to think he was half stunned to see me this way and half furious about it.

Then Picard nodded as he sizzled before my eyes.

Picard walked into the darkness.

Picard didn't have a phaser on him.

I raised my head up seeing the bright light land on my face.

"All right, Programmer," Came the bearded man. "You are going to pay for what you've done."

I smiled.

"Do your worst." I said, daringly.

Two other men came to my side and broke the last bind then dragged me by the shoulders out of the room. I had a short wave at Picard smiling reassuringly that everything would be fine. Every breath was difficult to do. I felt like I was getting ready to die within the day. I do know there are three dozen of the men. Were they all treated as criminals? Probably. They had tattoos usually in prisons on Earth for the worst and brutal killers. There was a documentary about the impact of tattoos in society on the television.

I was unsure about living this experience.

I watched the room become smaller and smaller as I was dragged away.

 _I am so sorry, Worf._

 _I am sorry, Beverly._

 _I am so sorry,Picard._

 _I am so sorry,Riker._

 _I am so sorry,Billy._

 _I am very sorry, Sarah, that you had to plug yourself in for no reason._

 _I am so sorry,mother._

I am so sorry Uncle for bringing shame on your name-sake.

I saw Picard's figure come half way out of the door but I couldn't see the look on his face.

This might have been our final interaction as programmer and program.

* * *

 **. . .May 9th. . .10:20 AM. . .**

 **. . . 2070. . .**

I was left in the middle of the room. I had braced myself for the imminent impact that would soon come from the boots of others. I was prepared for my fate. I did know my life could possibly end on this planet. I was on the floor laid on my side waiting for them to come. Eventually a dozen of them came into the room. One closed the door behind them cutting off the rest of the rest of the three dozen. I could hear their knuckles being cracked. I felt too weak to move on my own.

Best to accept it.

To accept a cruel form of death.

Also to forgive those who've hurt me in the past.

I forgave the Calamarain.

I forgave Philip, my former cubicle partner, for what he had done.

"I forgive you all," I said. "And I hope god has mercy on your souls."

"As if." The bearded man said.

I closed my eyes and shielded my head on time for the first few kicks. I valued my brain so go figure. I could feel pain. Pain that intensified. It must have been thirty minutes when the beating stopped. There was shouting. I could feel pain all over my body. It was like I had been shattered into pieces. My servos were no longer wrapped around my head. I could see blood pouring down into a pool. There was blood coming from my lips, my face, and wherever that my mind does not bother to wonder. Two men remained in the room with me.

"I can't believe he is still alive."

"He's losing blood. He'll be dead within the hour."

"This man survived phaser blasts,falling from a gorge, and falling over a waterfall. I mean vengence is sweet. But it would be more sweet if he died."

I heard the exchange of phaser fire.

The sound of bodies landing to the ground became evident.

I closed my eyes.

And then my eyes reopened to see a much different scenery. There was a shade of whiteness about the room that resembled a hospital room aboard one of those fancy dance hospital ships. The ones who stood out were two men in dark uniform. I noticed I was in some kind of bio bed that wasn't quite really a bio bed but the resemblance was uncanny. I could see my health on the screen. There was a bar alongside the bed. I could see the transparent doorway revealing the hallway that has a glowing floorbase contrasting against the darkness. I recognized Picard somehow that I can't really know. I just knew he was there,

"Where were you?" Picard asked someone beside him.

"Most of the year I was searching for you, which was funny after I recently found out you went under a false alias with Beverly. . .Where is Beverly and Worf anyway?" It was Riker.

"In the program," Picard said. "You have been here for a year?"

"Affirmative," Riker said. "Where did you appear?"

"China." Picard said. "What about you?"

"I appeared on a starship stationed near Mercury," Riker said. "So happens it was the Bar Code retrieval training month. By the way, late congratulations on getting married with Doctor Crusher." My eyes struggled to open ever so weakly. "I didn't expect you to enlist in the security detail."

My servos struggled to tap on the blanket.

"I remembered something during my first week in Q's reality," Picard said. "It made sense, more than anything regarding our sudden appearance here. It made accepting this reality even more better. We were programs. All of it, as you know it . . . When did you discover what you were?"

"I was glitching on the job. They revealed to me what happened: that I was made 'organically holographically real but genuinely real enough to act and live as a human.' I found it quite handy as a program. I freaked out some of the escapee's. I just never expected Q to end up here . . .On Mars . . . Of all places with you." Riker lowered his voice. "How's the reality?"

"Back to normal," Picard said. "We have been gone for a day, oddly."

"I found myself comming the _Enterprise_ randomly in the year I was in this reality," Riker said. "And I got the hard truth that the _Enterprise_ was not real. I miss that ship. The one we were on."

I closed my eyes.

Falling back asleep.

When I opened my eyes it was dark.

Totally black but there were machinery glowing.

My arms felt operational.

I slid a large ipad over to me then unfolded it to reveal it is a laptop.

"All right," I said. "Picard and Riker. If you are still here. . . I am giving you this. This is my gift."

I got onto the deep, deep, deep web.

The screen glowed blue against my face as my recently repaired digits flew.

I checked if Picard and Riker had returned.

None yet.

I found the Program Q in its artificially enrichness.

"Eureka!" I whispered.

I grinned.

"Time to go home, my humans," I said. "Home sweet home."

I typed away.

It had been years since I coded but my writing was still there. I put in the commands, the numbers, the coding, and intricate codes. All I could see was my beautiful world of coding all around me down to the sub-atomic level and the organic coding. Down to the nearest realism. I saw strings of coding outlined in blue hovering around the room. The laptop is projecting the coding that is being tinkered with due to projection mode being turned on. I saw a rubber ducky on the table. Ha, I won't need it. I read out one command then frowned at it. I picked up the ducky then tossed it at the wall across from me cursing at the coding. That certainly helped me getting the coding straightened out. I read out loud these commands then had to correct them. My babies were getting deformed because I had not programmed in years! Somehow the rubber duckies replicated. I threw maybe sixty-five rubber duckies.

Okay, maybe one hundred twenty-three.

Coding is a very precise process in programming.

Black Hats, who are a unique breed of hackers who could be called up to do anything, know how to basic programming that suits their needs and beyond basic programming.

It must have been five hours I spent on this baby.

I heard the doors whoosh open so I turned my head in the direction of the one who had entered.

It was Billy.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Billy asked.

I typed away.

"Look where you are stepping," I said. "Or else you will be squeaking everywhere you go in this room."

Billy slid the rubber duckies to the side approaching me.

"Why didn't you tell me that you were dying?" Billy asked.

"Because Billy," I said. "I didn't want you to be more sad that you were losing a friend."

"You are dying and there is nothing that the doctors can do." Billy said, sounding upset.

"Look Billy. . ." I said. "There are people like me that people hate and as much as I hate it . . . I can't change the past. Even if I could. I would make the same mistakes again and again and again. It is in my nature."

Billy was tearing up.

"And what are you doing?" Billy asked. "Coding?"

"To send some friends back, why yes, Billy," I said. "There is a past program I have to change. All the horrors of the government that had been done. I am nearly done."

"And what?" Billy asked. "'You are gonna die on me?"

I sighed.

"Billy," I said, pausing in my programming. "Life is not fair. I know that, and you know that too. I don't expect you to understand what I am doing. I am doing it to save others. Something I can't always do. I saved one program, I saved another person, and I saved you." I pointed directly at Billy. "If anything . . . You made me fight to stay alive." I lowered my hand down to the keyboard. "I wish things could have been different between us." I resumed coding. "It is my fate to end this way. I want to do some good with the time I have left in this world."

Billy came to my side.

"You fought for me?" Billy asked.

I nodded my head.

"You can't be left alone with another dead corpse," I said. "Besides, that is cruel leaving you with another dead man."

"So that time we were climbing. . ." Billy said, in a lowered voice.

"I nearly died," I said. "I did. . I saw your parents orbs. I just put one and one together. I came back."

Billy grabbed me into a hug.

"Thank you for being there for me." Billy said.

"Ah hahah," I said. "Not a problem."

Billy stopped the hug.

"My moms name was Jennifer Lawrence Thompson and my dad was John Lewis Thompson." Billy said.

"Interesting names," I said. "They must have been great people far as I am concerned. Now go back to bed. It is not even daylight hour in the starship."

"It is a star base, Mr Ryker." Billy said.

"Smooze you lose, go back to bed," I said. "Bill."

I nodded.

"Can you at least stay alive to say goodbye before I leave?" Billy said.

"I can't promise anything," I said. "Goodbye, Bill."

Billy frowned.

"Not right now!" Billy said.

"Then when?" I asked.

"When my lame uncle's husband picks me up." Billy said

"He was an awesome uncle," I said. "I envy you. Not many kids have parents married to horse trainers."

"How did you know he was dead?" Billy asked.

"You told me earlier regarding the building collapse," I said. "And when you are dying, you must forgive and forget." I took the boy's hand. "You will never have the chance to forgive again."

"I will try." Billy said,

"No, you will." I said, darkly.

"Okaaaay, Ryker." Billy said.

I let go of Billy's hand.

"Goodbye, Billy," I said.

"See you later!" Billy said.

Billy walked out of the room.

I looked down toward the coding then muttered out loud the codes and with that, I had a smile on my face.

"Enter." I said.

I restored the world to what it had been prior to the government take over.

"Bravo!" Came Q2's voice along with clapping. "Brilliant work."

I looked up from the computer to see Q2 at the corner of the room.

"You," I said. "Get. Out."

"Has it not occurred to you that you can change the past and right your wrongs?"

"That is impossible."

"But _not_ _im_ possible."

"What do you mean?"

"I am a Q, what do you expect? The Easter bunny?"

"No."

"Then you expect me to be capable of anything celestial."

"Yes."

"A bit like the movie _Jumanji_ , don't you think?"

I was baffled by the mention of _Jumanji_.

"What?"

Q2 walked past the toys.

"Don't worry, in the next few hours Riker and Picard will be returned to their reality and you already made your farewells to the boy. You will be dead in given next minute in a half. However you made quite the impression on young Billy. He becomes the president later in his lifetime as a grown man, re-appeals the child geniuses laws and the patent law in this timeline."

"I prefer to live in the one I am living."

"Too bad,Q! You will make the same impression in the next timeline. And I really hope you don't make the same mistakes. This isn't your destiny. It wasn't your fate, Q, it _never was_! I only did this to make you appreciate your life. **NOW WAKE UP.** "

Q2 snapped his fingers.

* * *

 **. . . 2063. . .**

 **. . . January 1st. . .2:48 PM . . .**

I awoke from a power nap on the keyboard.

I had so many memories.

I stood upright then look down to see I had my hands.

"I have my haaands!" I sang. "I have my hands, I have my hands, I have my haaaaannds!"

I paced back and forth contemplating what I should do.

Did I really want go back down the lane of mistakes?

I looked toward the computer then toward the mess I had straight in the kitchen.

I had to make a pivotal decision here.

One that would leave me immune to anything afterwards.

I felt so healthy and alive! I decided to go with cleaning the kitchen first. While I did so I sang to myself, opened the window to the kitchen, washed the plates with soap, and turned on the radio. I sang along to the music. Pretty much I was a changed man from my experience. I had to figure out a way to repair my social life. One that had taken a route to the shit hole. I wanted to have the life of Q (For fun) and the life of Ryan Ryker together (in his most serious and deserving life) as one. I cleaned the kitchen, dusted the house, sweeped the house, and then did some acting applications.

If I was going to build my life again I had to do it with people.

Actors are people too.

And I got a reply.

I got an audition for someone related to Steven Spielberg. One of his . . . Indiana Jones movies?

And man did I hit jackpot.

* * *

 **. . . Alternate 2369. . .June 1st. . .**

 **. . . Earth. . .1:39 PM. . .**

"Hello, Jenny," I said. "This is your friend Ryker, I was wondering if you rather . . . Hm. . . I dunno. . . prefer to go visit Disney Land? My treat. Junior and I are going . . ." I looked over toward Junior who was sleeping in the smart car in the seat beside me. "I can arrange the trip to August, if you'll like."

I was no longer a programmer but a actor.

A brilliant actor with his fair share of bad movies.

I was going to do a terrible rip off of Star Wars called Star Gazers.

I, naturally, would play the villain.

I always did like playing the villains.

"Oh, Ryker!" Jennifer finally answered. "Oh my god, it has been years since I last spoke to you."

I smiled watching the scenery flying past.

"It has been," I said. "Dearly."

"We were heading to Mars when we got your call. We would be delighted!" Jennifer said.

"Jennifer. . ." I said.

"Yes?" Jennifer asked.

"You might want to take the next flight to Mars." I said.

"Why?" Jennifer said.

"Because I have a friend who has a much safer landing and very reliable crew. I know some colonists on the planet as well, even a few security guards here and there at the prisons."

I have portrayed a astrological guy, a prison inmate, several heroes and anti-heroes, and so on.

"His aunt is expecting us." Jennifer said.

"I know a guy who'll get you there sooner. His name is Hope Frederick located in London. He works for the transport starships. He even has the latest and fastest model ready to ship out today. Free of charge." I said.

"Oh Ryan!" Jennifer said, sounding pleased.

"You don't owe me,just cancel and go ask him. Tell him Ryan Ryker gives his compliments. He owes me a favor." I said.

"Mommy, who are you talking to?" Came Billy's voice.

It had been years since I heard his voice.

I smiled remembering the freckled boy with messy hair.

"A friend, dear." Jennifer said.

"Which one?" Billy asked.

"The one who portrayed the astrological scientist." Jennifer said.

"Oh, that guy!" Billy said. "He is the one with the kid named after him!"

"Okay, what is his phone number and address?" Jennifer asked.

I gave her the phone number.

I said my farewells and turned off the communicator machine.

I looked down toward Junior.

"You would be so proud of your daddy if you knew what I knew." I said.

* * *

 **. . . .Alternate 2369. . .June 1st. . .**

 **. . . Earth. . . 7:48 PM. . .**

"Good night, daddy long legs." Junior said.

I kissed Junior's forehead.

"Good night, Tyrannosaurus Rex with a non-ending stomach." I said, teasingly.

"Daddy!" Junior said.

"Joking." I said.

"I was about to say that nobody knows how hungry a Tyrannosaurus Rex gets." Junior said.

I get up from the bed.

"Don't we all?" I said.

I turned the light off then begin heading to bed.

I heard a ring from the door.

 **Ring**. **Ring**. **Ring**.

"Hm?" I said.

"Honey, who is it?" Sarah asked, from the bedroom.

"I will get it!" I said.

I approached the door then opened it to see a taped big box placed on the porch.

"What is it?" Sarah asked, again.

I looked around then looked down to see several postal stamps on it.

"A box!" I shouted back.

I picked up the box then shut the door behind me.

All those years ago after getting another chance at life I reconciled with Sarah. It wasn't easy with trials and tribulations. I managed to win her back again by being a father who I should have been and being the man she fell for. It was a lot like someone took me to a bad movie that lasted for hours and I came out with wide eyes. Lessons learned. Mistakes never to be made. I was given a Christmas Carol come to think of it. The man I could become if I wanted to spice up my boring life. So far I love my boring but animated life. Long ago I gave up the idea of bringing the program Q into this life. It would take too much of my time to do, anyhow.

I put the box onto the table.

I take out a kitchen knife then cut it open. I put the knife away and opened the box.

I pushed the fold back to see a lot of packing material being white and fluffy. I dug into the box feeling around for another box. I raised a eyebrow then take out the ipad shaped object. It reminded me a lot of a holopad from the science fiction movies I have seen. I extended it using the wide long metal edges. I dug back into the box where I could feel a helmet, gloves of some kind, and some kind of connector that connected to a power source. A outlet of some kind. There was a projection room built into the house that had a similar plug in hole.

I put on the gloves and the helmet.

I took the two items into my arms and headed into the room along with the box.

I extended the holopad into the size of a TV screen that became three screens.

I hooked the screen into three sides of the room.

I put the connector into the outlet then back up.

"Honey?" Sarah asked. "'What is it?"

"I don't know," I said, handing her a letter from the box. "I am turning on the program. Could you read it for me?"

"Sure," Sarah said. "But I don't know who would send a letter this late at night."

"Same here." I said.

" _Dear Q, or should I call you Ryker_?" Sarah read out loud.

The screen on the helmet turned dark.

" _Doesn't matter. I got the message_."

Then a letter appeared.

It was the letter Q.

" _Classy, saving the lives of the Thompsons_."

The background glowed white then turned to blue.

" _I will have you know they made it to their destination and will be safely back on Earth in time for the trip at Disney. So I decided to send you a congratulations gift. I have given you . . . That. . . world of yours. The one you left behind for your family._ " Sarah looked up from the letter back toward me raising a brow then down. " _I am very flattered you would rather save others lives in exchange for a dull life. Boring. . . Dull. . . And so . . . dry . . . empty . . . boring. I believe that is the order you narrated your life descriptively when I first took notice. So since you have become a honest man and decided to embrace the blandness in it . . . Here's a very expensive toy that you must never show. Ever."_

Sarah paused.

 _"Sincely, Q2."_ Sarah finished. "Honey, who is Q2?"

"I will tell you in the morning," I said. "I swear. Go to bed, this will all be squared away."

Sarah lowered the letter.

"I hope you will," Sarah said. "And don't get obsessed with this . . . game."

"Trust me," I said, looking over my shoulder with a smile. "I won't."

Sarah left the room.

I turned my head back toward the middle screen then held my right hand up and snapped my fingers.

"Program activating," The computer went. "World: _Enterprise_. Logging onto _Enterprise E._ "

I smiled.

And there, in their reality, I appeared much in their modern day uniform with red faced Picard.

"Q, get off my bridge!" Picard shouted.

It was like my personal welcome back from my best programmed friend, ever.

"Why I missed you too!" I said.

"Did I say something that I am not hearing?" Picard said. _"Q, get off my bridge!_ "

 **The End.**


End file.
